


The Long Game

by orphan_account



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Dominant Emma Swan, Dominant Regina Mills, Dubious Consent, Established Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Forced Orgasm, Jealous Emma Swan, Jealousy, Lesbian Sex, Light Bondage, Over stimulation, Possessive Emma Swan, Possessive Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Romance, Rough Sex, Smut, Some Plot, SwanQueen Fanfiction Facebook Group (Once Upon a Time), switch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 11:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20134471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After Emma breaches an agreement with Regina and the two have a public spat, Emma believes that Regina has let it go. But has she? Or, is the mayor waiting for a more perfect and intimate time to strike?





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello All! I am not even sure where to begin. I am both glad to be back on here and pissed off at the same time. If my name looks remotely familiar to you, that is because I started writing fanfiction two months ago and signed up for the various platforms. I posted two works on here and three on ff.net. Some lovely piece of garbage stole my laptop. I cleared out all my accounts and had to start over. I couldn't risk or stand the thought of someone getting my private information. Long story short, the issue has been resolved, but I lost two of my stories. "Wait For It" and "The Long Game" were posted here and on FF. I honestly thought all my stories were gone and it really took the wind out of my sails because I didn't have them saved anywhere else. Anywho, I found a copy of "The Long Game" (was not expecting that) and I wanted to put it back out there for the people who enjoyed it. I guess it's only fitting that the only one to survive was the first one I ever wrote. 
> 
> Okay, enough of that. A bit of housekeeping: Triggering Warning for DUBIOUS CONSENT. If that is not your thing, it's cool. I own none of the characters and all mistakes are mine. Again, check me out and tell me what you think. Kudo and review the heck out of this thing. It will definitely give me a boost. Haven't written a thing since the incident (son of a bitch). 
> 
> I have resubmitted this work on ff.net and recently signed up for on Wattpad (I am still trying to figure that site out, but my name on there is: I_am_Naqq).
> 
> Additionally, I was asked to continue this three-part series but the characters and I seem to have naturally parted ways in relation to this story. I am open to any ideas and suggestions. Thanks guys! :-*

** **

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

** _Present time . . ._ **

**Friday Night:**

"Please . . . I can't . . ."

Her thighs were desperate to connect, to shut out the persistent hand—the relentless digits that refused to grant her a scintilla of reprieve. The hand taunted her; it stroked her and possessed her with a ferociousness that caused her skin to burn. She cast her pleading and bewildered stare to the owner—the resilient culprit of that demanding hand. The deft fingers thrust and twisted with such precision that she couldn't stop her toes from curling. She couldn't stop her hands from grabbing fists full of the satin sheets. Her back arched on its own accord; and her normally low and smooth voice betrayed her with cries and high-pitched screams when those damned fingers stroked her most sacred and sensitive of areas. The skilful fingers coaxed and demanded that her hot liquid come forth and her nectar was forced to obey the masterful commands and make its presence known. A pool of her essence spilled from her center, yet again. The heat climbed its way from her shaking thighs and traveled to the pit of her stomach. It slithered between her breastbones and surged free from her gaping mouth as a scream of carnal torture in its purest and rawest form.

"Babe, _please! _I'm sor—." The plea died on her lips and instantly morphed into a sharp intake of breath.

The headboard met the wall of the bedroom with obscenely violent thuds in an ever-quickening pace. The cracks against the wall mocked her as the rhythm grew louder and more urgent. The black eyes above her, focused and unsympathetic, took it all in. They bore into her, scanning every inch of her face, determined to absorb every movement, every whimper, every cry. Those eyes . . . They demanded her very essence and she was powerless to deny them.

Again, she tried to close her legs—tried to squeeze out the hand and those fingers. A possessive growl emanating from the woman above her told her instantly that it was the wrong move to make. A second hand pressed firmly into her stomach just below her navel while its thumb roughly pressed and circled the bundle of nerves just between her swollen nether lips. The increased pressure against her womb coupled with the hands that seemed to invade her very soul was _too much. _The claws of yet another climax hooked into her abdomen and raked through her from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. This was not a release. What a foolish word. No, this was a vice. This was a splendid but excruciating death grip coursing through her veins. The fire swelled and pulsed through her blood. Those blasted hands and those angry eyes—stayed with her for the entire journey and followed her hips as she jerked like a madwoman off the mattress. Her body involuntarily met every downward thrust of the three fingers plunging into her. No compassion. No mercy.

"Wider!"

"Ah!" The blonde hissed as the raging brunette forcefully pushed her legs further apart and pinned them with her knees. Emma's hand shook terribly as she reached between their sweaty bodies to grip Regina's wrist. She needed to stop this. She needed to break free before she lost what was left of her mind. She tried, really _tried _with what pitiful amount of strength she could muster to pull Regina's hand out of her center.

"Unhand me," came the growled warning from the woman on top of her.

"R-Regina," she whimpered. "Regina, please. I-I didn't mean it!"

The olive goddess was unmoved. Her jaw clenched beneath her smooth delicate features before her dangerous tone filled the space between them once more. "Unhand me. Now."

"Please," she tried again.

"Do I need to tie your hands again?"

Emma wept as she released Regina's wrist. Her sensitive core wept with her. The fluid from her body gave itself to Regina with frightening force. No, there was no giving. Regina _took _it. She pulled it from her and basked in every glorious moment of power. Each touch, each thrust into her sensitive canal spurred her further into the dual dimensions of ecstasy and pain. Regina resumed her vicious tempo, taking all that she wanted from the blonde—owning her, claiming her, detaching her body from her soul only to merge the two together again in a duel to the death. That's what it felt like: a slice of death; it was a merciless plunder of her very being and each climax, each mind numbing orgasm brought her closer and closer to the end of her sanity.

Her thoughts were splintered and tethered pieces of internal and external cries. Through the haze of moans and pleas, she could not help but wonder: How could she have been so stupid to think Regina would just let it go?

_Holy hell._

** _Four Days Earlier . . ._ **

** Monday: **

Emma huffed and rolled her eyes at the sound of the high heels in the hall. Just one . . . _one _damn week, she'd like to make it through a shift without hearing the mayor storm through the sheriff's office in those ridiculous shoes. Storybrooke couldn't have more than a couple of hundred people—maybe a few thousand, tops—so who was this woman dressing for? Did it make her feel superior to pay six hundred dollars for shoes just to walk around town and terrorize the residents? People scrambled to get out of her way and many refused to make eye contact with her. Hell, if she got in their way, _they _apologized. It was nauseating.

"Sheriff Swan?"

Emma looked up from her computer to acknowledge the mayor's presence. In the past, the sheriff never bothered to look up. She would go about whatever she was in the process of doing unless she perceived her full attention was needed. Early on in her role as sheriff, Emma learned that this little habit of hers irked the mayor. So now, in the name of peace, Emma made an effort to acknowledge the mayor's presence with intentional eye contact. It was part of their agreement once they realized that the dynamic of their relationship was . . . changing. Their treaty of sorts was fragile but Emma was determined to make the best of it. They had agreed to keep their dalliances (Regina's word, not hers) private and separate from their working relationship. This new aspect of their relationship could work, they reasoned, so long as it didn't seep over into their working dynamics, both parties adhered to the terms, and so long as it didn't hurt Henry.

It perplexed the sheriff to no end. Outside of the office, in the privacy of her mansion, Regina was almost a bearable and decent human being. But once she put on those sickening heels and tight skirts, she transformed into something that made Emma want to lock the Sheriff's office and deny the brunette access. The fact that they were now sleeping together did nothing to quell Emma's irritation. If anything, seeing a different side of the mayor only served to fuel her anger and frustration for the grade-A bitch that Regina could be in public. Most days she bit her tongue—mainly because of their agreement. In short, Emma would respect Regina in public and her official position as mayor and in return the mayor promised to do the same and not interfere with Emma's position as sheriff. When Emma was good and the mayor was happy with her, Regina could be very generous and—despite telling herself otherwise—nothing made her happier than Regina's brand of . . . generosity. The blonde had decided, after their first night together, that she needed to do whatever it took to hold up her end of the bargain.

"Are you paying attention, _sheriff_?" The emphasis on her title and the sound of the mayor slamming a folder onto her desk jolted her from her private thoughts.

"Yes, Madam Mayor," she obliged through gritted teeth. Then again, nothing pissed her off faster than Regina's, 'I am mayor hear me roar' attitude. On some days—like today—Emma found it hard to uphold their agreement. While the mayor no longer belittled the sheriff in public, Regina certainly hadn't adopted a sweet and loving tone during working hours. And why in the world did she still find it necessary to come to the sheriff's station _all_ the time? Didn't this woman have anything better to do?

"By all means, Miss Swan, please tell me what I just said."

Emma felt her cheeks flame but she knew she didn't have a comeback just yet. _Screw this woman. _"Fine, Regina. You caught me. Happy?"

"Careful, Sheriff . . ." The warning in the brunette's voice was quiet but clear.

Emma sighed. Maybe she was in a sour mood, maybe she was being unreasonable, but whatever the true motivation, Emma was certain of one thing beyond a reasonable doubt: she really did not feel like this shit today. "You could always just repeat it, Regina. Everything doesn't have to be such a big deal."

The mayor's pupils dilated into two tiny midnight abysses. Had Emma looked carefully, she would have noticed the ire brimming from those beautiful eyes. Instead Emma glanced down at the folder that Regina placed on her desk.

"Just leave it here, Regina."

"There are a few instructions, sheriff," Regina said through tight lips.

"Aren't there always? You could have just typed up the instructions and put them in the folder. We have an inbox in the hall, you know?" _What is your problem, Swan?_

Regina closed her eyes and took a deep breath before trying again. Emma was testing her and Regina could not think of a worse way to start a Monday. "The details are a bit sensitive. I deemed it best to relay the instructions in person, Ms. Swan."

"I'm sure you did. It's not like we have phones, computers, or fax machines here."

"You would do well to remember your place, Ms. Swan. I expect a certain amount of consideration and respect from you," Regina declared in a low tone.

Emma scoffed and shifted her gaze back to her computer screen. Everything always had to be so dramatic and about what the precious mayor wanted. _Screw this woman._

"And you _will_ look at me when I am speaking to you, _sheriff_."

"I hear with my ears, Regina," Emma quipped without looking up or missing a beat. This would be the first time Emma tested the boundaries of their 'agreement.' Normally, she would do her best to rein in her snide remarks when they were in public, but this one seemed to slip out all on its own.

Silence.

More silence.

An eerie hush spread through the office. The moment the quip slid from the sheriff's lips, time itself became a hostage. Emma, noticing the deafening quiet and feeling the heat of those black eyes, lifted her gaze once more. The mayor's face was unreadable. Her head was slanted ever so slightly as she examined the blonde woman. Without realizing it, Emma gulped. She watched as Madam Mayor dropped her purse into an empty deputy's chair before pivoting on those _ridiculous _heels toward Emma's desk. The brunette stopped in front of the generic and outdated office furniture and planted her hands firmly on the desk—reveling in the fact that the position allowed her to look down on the insolent blonde.

"Repeat that." The brunette's request poured over the sheriff and she cursed herself for shivering.

Emma cleared her throat and scanned the room. She had to look away—not because she was scared, of course; but no reasonable person could be expected to stare into those damned black eyes for too long. She sighed before she began. "Look, Regina—."

"_Madam Mayor. _We've had this discussion," Regina hissed.

"Fine, _Madam Mayor_. But we also _discussed_ you letting me do my job. I don't need a babysitter."

"But it would appear that you _do _need a reminder. We agreed, _sheriff_, that whatever . . . private communications exist between us, we would not allow it to impede our working relationship."

Emma leaned back in her chair and propped her feet on her desk. "In all fairness, _Regina_, you were a bitch before our 'private communications.' So, I don't see how anything has changed."

Emma's smirk grew into a full grin when the vein on Regina's forehead made its presence known. The mayor leaned in closer to the sheriff, letting her silk blouse fall open just enough to expose the top of her breasts. The tips of Emma's boots nearly grazed the smooth fabric but the sheriff decided she didn't care. _Madam Mayor_ was the one invading _her_ personal space.

"I've warned you about this." The mayor's tone was calm now and almost . . . sweet?

Again, the sheriff gulped but she refused to back down now. "And what _this _would that be," Emma asked as she too leaned forward. _Screw. This. Woman._

The sound of a throat clearing briefly snapped them from the dangerous tango that ensnared both their senses—neither sure exactly how long there had been an audience to their verbal battle of wills. How much did the person hear? Each woman mentally assessed their conversation, wondering if either had said anything that would expose the true nature of their ever-developing bond. Satisfied that the worse the spectator could have heard was the indirect reference of 'private communications', both women released the breath that neither realized they had been holding in. Private communications could mean a number of things. The death glare that Regina was sending Emma all but ensured that those two little words were not likely to be perceived as an indication of a sexual relationship.

"Uh, Madam Mayor? Emma? Everything okay?"

Emma shifted in her seat in order to peer around the stubborn woman leaning over her. "Yeah, David. Re—."

"Deputy," Regina interrupted, still not moving a muscle and never taking her eyes off the sheriff. "We need the room."

The silence and lack of retreating footsteps was more potent than any hasty exit could have been. The brunette cast a glance over her shoulder. Thing One stood there rubbing the back of his neck, eyes darting back and forth between the mayor and the sheriff, waiting for an explanation.

"That wasn't a request, deputy. The room. Now."

"Ugh. Madam Mayor, the _room_ happens to be the sheriff's station," Emma sighed. "You can't clear out the entire police department because you have a stick up your ass."

Yet again, she discovered exactly the wrong thing to say. She knew it the minute she opened her stupid mouth but she was already knee deep in the swamp of Regina's wrath, so why fight it? Cold onyx eyes raked over her body. The brunette straightened from her leaning position—still not taking her eyes from her prey.

David stood at his desk and watched the scene before him. The two women stared at each other; one standing rigid and lording her height over the other; the second gazing upward with a twinkle of amusement and a challenge in her eyes. The frenemies—or at least so he thought—had reached a stage in their dealings with one another where the town didn't have to suffer the incessant bickering and near knock-down drag-outs that would break out between the two women. No location was sacred or off limits: the library, town hall, the sheriff's station, the mayor's office, the cemetery, hell—the_ middle of the street!_

Then one day . . . it just all went away. The two powerhouses bumped into each other, one entering Granny's and the other leaving. They looked each other in the eyes and well, smiled maybe?

"Madam Mayor," Emma had nearly bowed as she held the door open for Regina.

The diner went still. No one moved, no one breathed. Hell, the eggs in the back on the stove stopped frying.

"Sheriff Swan," the mayor purred as she nodded and glided out of the diner.

At the time, David vaguely recalled hearing a faint, ". . . the hell?" from somewhere in the diner. Looking back now, he was more than a little convinced that the words had come from him.

Now, in the sheriff's office, the two women appeared to be reverting to the days of old but the tension hanging between them was so . . . different. David just couldn't quite put his finger on it. In the past, their conflicts were easy enough to decipher. The origins of their hatred for one another was no big mystery. Regina was threatened by Emma's presence in Storybrooke because of what it could mean for her relationship with Henry. But now, well, crap . . . what _now_? As far as David knew, they'd resolved those issues and were practically living together with all their family night dinners with Henry and shared PTA events. It was almost peaceful, almost normal. _So_, David mused inwardly, _what made it all go to the dogs this time: "Inadequate" reports? Failure to display the "proper" town meeting etiquette? Ugh, maybe just because it was a Monday and the sun was shining?_

** Tuesday: **

Emma wasn't sure if she was more worried or grateful when the mayor didn't grace the sheriff's station with her quiet but commanding presence. Emma was never one to back down from a fight, never one to cower in the face of adversity. Whenever she felt cornered, irritated, or antagonized she defended herself. Her encounters with Regina were no exception. She fought and challenged the mayor at every turn. She refused, _refused _to be intimidated—refused to be pushed around by a woman with a god-complex and too much time on her hands. She could handle the threats, she could handle the glares that were hard enough to cut through glass and diamonds. Shoot, she could even handle public belittling and berating. Until yesterday it hadn't occurred to her that she would ever truly fear the mayor. But the calm tone the mayor had adopted sent chills through her every time she played back their encounter in her mind. Yesterday, Regina never raised her voice and never issued a threat. After David refused to leave the station for fear of a physical altercation, Emma felt a sense of security. She couldn't quite explain it, but knowing that this was their first adverse encounter since they began sleeping together made it different somehow. She was grateful for David's presence. A part of her, a larger part than she cared to admit, also loved the fact that she could irritate Regina in front of an audience—no matter how small. It was a sore spot for the mayor and yesterday, Emma was more than happy to poke at that prideful bruise.

_"__We _will _finish this later, Sheriff Swan." The statement came after Emma had asked Regina if she thought the taxpayers would appreciate knowing that their mayor habitually used her position and their tax dollars to harass the police department. The comment earned her yet another odd smile before the mayor retrieved the file from Emma's desk and her purse from the empty chair then made her way gracefully toward the exit. "Deputy," she'd said by way of acknowledgement as she passed David on her way out._

Now in the quiet and calm of a new day she racked her brain, trying to understand what exactly it was about the mayor's presence that made her breach the terms of their 'agreement.' It wasn't as though Regina behaved any differently than any other day. _Let's be real, Emma. She's a bitch every day. _But wasn't that the real issue? Every day. Every. Single. Day. Did the woman never take a day off and leave her bitch cape in the back of her closet?

"I was tired of her bull," she mumbled in response to her own mental query.

When she hadn't heard from Regina last night, she tried not to think too much of it. Monday nights were not their dinner nights so it wasn't that unusual. But now, here it was after one in the afternoon and still no Regina. The silent treatment was not something that she ever would have guessed was in the mayor's arsenal. She sat at her desk and wondered if she should call to make sure that she was still allowed to come to dinner but decided against making the call. They had agreed that Henry would not be affected by their relationship—personal or otherwise—and there was no way one tense day was going to change that. No, Henry was not a bargaining chip and missing dinner with him was _not _an option. They were not going back to those days. There was no way she would let Regina keep her from Henry. Not again. Never again.

Emma knew that her thoughts were running wild but it was easier to imagine the worst than sit patiently and abide the lack of communication. Shame and guilt stirred in the pit of her stomach before the thoughts could find further purchase in her mind. Regina was her employer, her co-parent, and now at the very least her . . . friend? Maybe the silent treatment was considered effective because the person on the receiving end was left to ponder and worry over situations and scenarios that only existed in his or her mind until that person drove herself absolutely insane. _It's been less than a full day, Emma. You'll see them tonight._

"I grabbed you a grilled cheese and a root beer float."

Emma looked up and smiled at David as he handed her a greasy sack and a drink. Leave it to mister gallant to swoop in and save her from her own dark musings without even realizing that she needed to be saved.

"Thanks, David."

"Meh, you seem a bit distracted today. I figured this should fix you right up." He leaned against his desk and chomped on one of his fries. His face fell into an easy and natural smile as they ate their meal in silence.

She wondered just how far she should read into his statements. Did he know about her and Regina? She doubted it—no one knew. Honestly, she wasn't even sure what _she_ knew when it came to dealing with that woman. David knew she was distracted. Could he have bought her comfort food because he knew her tiff was with Regina, her secret lover, and not Regina, her boss and co-parent? She watched him as he dangled a soggy fry in the air and bit the end aggressively before smiling at his own form of entertainment. _No way in hell._

As with most days in their sleepy town, the remaining of Emma's day was uneventful—painfully so: no calls, no dogs to chase, not even a report. _Makes sense, no action means no paperwork. _She and David walked out of the sheriff's station together and she waited while he locked the doors.

"So, what's Regina making tonight? Does she put the same food in rotation like a school cafeteria?"

They both laughed at his little joke.

"Nah, she tries to mix up. She basically ends up making two meals: something that me and Henry will eat without complaining and then something fancy enough for her 'sophisticated' pallet." They cracked up when Emma squared her shoulders and turned up her nose in order to imitate the mayor. "Henry eats her food like I'm going to fight him for it. If I don't lose an arm in the process, I'll try to grab some leftovers for our lunch tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me," David grinned. "I'm headed over to Mary Margaret's," he beamed with a crooked smile. "She likes to cook for me." He was so whipped. Emma knew for a _fact _that Mary Margaret's food tasted like hot trash covered in Alpo. Yet, every evening after work or after one of his shifts David would head over to his girlfriend's house and eat whatever concoction his adorable girlfriend brewed in her small kitchen. _Love makes people crazy. And apparently immune to food poisoning._

They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

Dinner always started at six in Regina's house, but Emma liked to be early. After their blowout yesterday, Emma felt it was important today of all days that she not break that unspoken rule. Whether or not Regina would ever admit it, she expected Emma to be early. Being on time—or barely adequate—was never good enough for the infallible mayor.

As soon as she rang the door bell she heard Henry leaping toward the door and yelling, "She's heeere!" _Regina must have loved that._

"Hey, Ma," he smiled up at her and hugged her as she walked inside and closed the door with her foot.

"Hey, kid," she smiled widely at him. He was one of the few people in her life that could pull a genuine smile from her naturally down turned lips.

"Mom made homemade pizzas! She made us our own supremes and a veggie for her. I told her a veggie is just a supreme without meat." He whispered the last part and glanced over his shoulder to make sure Regina was nowhere in sight.

"Ha! I'm with you, kid. Do we have enough time to play a game before we eat?"

"Yeah!" His eyes lit up. "I'm playing an older one but it's one of my favorites."

She followed him into the den and they sat on the floor with their backs against the sofa.

"Yeah, it's a one-player though," he said as he handed her the game controller. "I've been stuck on this level for a while. It's getting on my nerves," he huffed.

"What's the game?"

"God of War. I have all of them on PS3. I don't like the one on PS4."

"Your mom lets you play God of War?"

"Yeah, she doesn't seem to mind these kind of games. I have Dante's Inferno and Heavenly Sword. They're kind of throwbacks, but she lets me play them."

"Throwbacks?"

"They're old, Emma," he said in a slow and exaggerated tone. "Like you and mom."

"Oh really?" Emma eyed the boy before pouncing on him and attacking his underarms. He shrieked and squealed while calling out for Regina.

Emma continued to tickle Henry even when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Without looking she knew Regina was standing in the doorway of the den watching them. "Mom," Henry screamed through his laughter. "Help me! Make her stop!"

"Don't do it, Regina," Emma huffed as she continued to wrestle the boy. "He called us old."

After a moment, the brunette's smoky and sensual voice floated straight through Emma. Even as her voice filled Emma's ear, Emma still couldn't quite bring herself to look at the mayor.

"Is that so, Henry? It seems to me that the punishment fits the crime." Henry tried again to escape the blonde and yelled for his mother to help him. "By all means, carry on, Em-ma." With that, she sauntered away and headed back into the kitchen.

After their exhausting tickle fight, the two made their way into the kitchen to tear into their pizzas. Regina wiped her hands on her apron and joined them at the counter so that they could all eat together. It seemed important to all of them that they ate in the same room and began at the same time and no one—not even Henry—ever once voiced a complaint.

Emma found herself sitting across from the mayor and made herself finally look at the beautiful woman sitting in front of her. The midnight eyes stared back at her and were still as unreadable as they had been the day before. Emma offered a timid smile before turning her attention to her pizza. As soon as she tasted what she considered to be a literal slice of heaven, she instantly regretted her promise to try and bring David any leftovers.

"Mm! This is so good, Regina." The blonde figured that perhaps a bit of flattery would help get her out of the doghouse. Wait . . . was she even _in_ the doghouse?

"Thank you, Emma," she responded smoothly with yet another calm and smooth tone. She gave away nothing and it almost caused Emma her appetite. _Almost._

Henry, per his usual, did not allow for much silence during their family dinners. He chattered about school and projects and his teachers. It was heartwarming knowing that he still wanted to share those moments with his parents. Soon enough those inevitable teen years would make their debut and Emma and Regina would likely have an easier time wrestling a bear than getting Henry to answer a question with a word other than "fine."

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Can Emma stay a little later tonight so she can show me how to beat that level on God of War?"

"You already know the answer to that question, young man," Regina answered without even bothering to look up from her pizza.

_Of course she eats pizza with a freaking knife and fork._

"Please, I won't be here Friday," he whined.

That caught Emma's attention. Henry was having a sleepover? The pit of her stomach tightened at the thought.

"You will only be gone for the night. I am sure your mother will be more than happy to teach you how to defeat whatever level when you return on Saturday. Wouldn't you, Emma?" Those eyes were on her again and all she could do was nod. "I couldn't hear you, dear."

Emma cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah. Sure thing, kid. So, where's this sleepover?"

"At Nicholas's house. He's got a new game and we're all going to check it out." Henry's excitement was next to tangible. Emma almost envied his carefree innocence and zest for life.

"And Nicholas's parents have assured me there will be some limitations. It is not healthy for you and your friends to spend hours so absorbed in those video games." Regina smirked into her wine glass when she saw Henry roll his eyes at her. He was like his birth mother in so many ways.

Emma watched the exchange and smiled to herself. She hadn't realized how much tension she was holding in until that moment. She feared that what transpired between she and the mayor would cause an awkwardness and a reversal of sorts from their path of improving and moving forward. But in that moment, as she sat in front of the mayor and next to her son, Emma felt silly and paranoid for those fears. _Damn that silent treatment. _Had that been Regina's plan all along, to make her think that some form of retribution was coming in order to teach her a lesson? If so, Emma had to admit, it was a rather effective way of getting a message across.

With her worries cast aside, Emma focused on what was really important: Henry would be out of the house Friday—all night. When their relationship first entered into the physical stage they agreed that there would be no sex in the house if Henry was home. It didn't manner how late, or how quiet the other promised to be, the rule was clear and solid: if their son was home the two women would just have to control themselves. Because of that bright line rule, Emma and Regina were confined to the occasional afternoons that Henry came home late from school—and sleepovers. Emma loved Henry. She _loved _him. But she also loved when the kid slept over at a friend's house because sleepovers meant she didn't have to rein in her desires. She didn't have to sneak longing glances at the brunette between bites of her food in hopes of keeping Henry blissfully ignorant.

"What are you going to do while I'm gone, mom," Henry asked Regina.

"Mm, your mother usually keeps me company while you're away, honey," she replied smoothly. Again, her tone and face betrayed nothing.

"Yeah, kid. Us old people have to stick together," Emma chirped with a mouth full of pizza.

The rest of their evening, much like all their evenings, ended as peacefully as it began and Henry headed upstairs after kissing both parents goodnight.

Once alone, the two women stared at each other—neither wanted to look away. Emma realized that she would never tire of looking at Regina, even if she could be a pain in the ass. She sighed as she finally rose to her feet and attempted to gather the dishes from the island.

Regina's hand reached out for hers and stopped her movement. "You don't have to do that, dear. I don't mind taking care of it."

"But you always cook, the least I can do is wash the dishes." It dawned on her that she was practically whining.

"That's very thoughtful of you. How about a rain check? I promise to let you wash my dishes this Friday. Does that suit you, sheriff?"

Just the mention of the word Friday made Emma's pulse quicken. "Y-yeah. Okay, deal." She felt the goofy smile spread across her face before she could stop it. Regina's eyes lowered to her lips and traveled back up to her eyes.

"Excellent. Now come, I'll walk you out." Regina extended her arm toward the kitchen door that led to the main foyer and the front door. Emma walked past her and tried not to focus on the heat radiating from the mayor's body being so close behind her. Ugh, she hated to leave. Emma could get used to this Regina, this agreeable and domestic Regina. This, this was _her _Regina. The town folks could keep that bitch that showed up from nine to five.

Emma stood at the threshold of the doorway and turned to face the mayor. For the third time in two days, she noted that the mayor's face was a blank slate. She didn't know if she should consider that a good thing or not, but given how smoothly the night had gone, Emma was convinced that the mayor was simply . . . at peace.

"So . . . I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Emma asked sheepishly.

Regina cocked her head slightly to the side, portraying a picture of genuine confusion. "For our dinner with Henry, Miss Swan? Of course."

"Oh," she breathed, truly surprised by the question. "No, I-I just thought maybe you would stop by the station or something . . ." _because you have nearly every damn day! Until yesterday . . . Wait, did I hurt her feelings? Is that why she didn't come by?_

Regina just eyed Emma, giving her a polite smile before placing her hand on Emma's chest, right below her collar bone. "I'm afraid I have to make preparations for a development that has come to my attention this week." Regina leaned in and grazed her lips against Emma's ear. The blonde shuddered at the contact. "But, please be here by seven Friday night," the brunette whispered.

Emma cleared her throat but found that she could still barely speak. "I'll, um, I'll be here at five-thirty."

Regina stepped back from Emma, her chocolate eyes melting into blackened pools and her expression darkened as she examined the sheriff from head to toe. "I cannot wait to get my hands on you, sheriff." She spoke in a tone so low and serious that it almost sounded like a threat. It was lethal but dipped in honey. And just that quickly, before Emma could ponder the dark expression or deadly tone, both were replaced with that nondescript expression and a genuinely pleasant pitch. "Have a good night. Get home safe, dear."

"Night, Regina," Emma smiled and headed to her car after watching the mayor close the door.

** Wednesday: **

"Okay, spill it," David blurted after another dull morning and afternoon. "I hate bloodshed as much as the next guy, but at least I wasn't bored. So, how pissed is the mayor? Must be pretty bad if it's stopped her from coming here."

"It's not like that," Emma sighed. "Regina's just been busy lately. She said she's working on some project this week or something," she shrugged.

"Yeah, okay. And you believe that?"

"Well, sure. Regina's nothing if not straightforward. She's just busy."

"Are we talking about the same Regina? Don't be so naïve, Emma," he all but laughed in her face. "When have you ever known Regina to be too busy to come here? You _reeeally_ pissed her off the other day. I'm telling you, something's up."

The blonde leaned back in her chair with a confident smile reaching her high and tinted cheekbones. "Nope. I'm telling _you_. We're okay. We had dinner last night, same as always and everything was fine."

"If you say so. She's your friend." David rose from his desk and grabbed his keys. He shook his head at the sheriff as he shrugged on his coat and headed out to make his patrol rounds.

** Thursday: **

Emma dragged herself into work wishing that something would happen. She didn't care what happened, she just needed some kind of action. She needed some form of distraction. She hated to admit it, but without the mayor's daily visitations, there was a void that not even the games she played on her phone could fill. She would give anything for a phone call, a drunk Leroy, a broken levy, a mysterious stranger in town . . . just anything.

She threw her leather jacket over the chair before plopping down. While she couldn't phantom another day of David's small talk and constantly listening for the sound of heels only to be disappointed, she was determined not to succumb to the boredom—the utter nothingness that was Storybrooke. She was determined not to miss the mayor's presence. She sighed at her own pathetic musings. Emma knew she wasn't being honest with herself. It would not have mattered how many calls came to station, how many drunks she locked away, or how many legitimate case files found themselves on her desk. She missed Regina. Sure, they had dinner Tuesday and Wednesday night and each night was their usual family time, but . . . it just wasn't the same. Day three of no office visits from Regina was actually beginning to bother Emma. It was part of their routine—the standoffs, the bickering, the stare-downs. Granted, since the enactment of their agreement, things were better but the tension was still there. The fire rolled between them just beneath the surface and went unnoticed to the naked eye. It was a work of art that only Emma and Regina were privy to and now, well, it was gone. _Get a grip, Swan. It's only been three days. You get to see her tomorrow night._ She didn't know what Regina was working on, or what project or 'development' had so much of her attention, but Emma knew one thing for sure: she wanted to hear the sound of those heels clacking down the hall. _Everything will be back to normal next week._

"Emma . . ."

_And what could she be doing that kept her from visiting at all?_

"Emma . . ."

_I mean, I thought she would have come by at least one freaking day. She can't be that busy! Regina has to stop and eat or something. A few minutes wouldn't kill her._

"Earth to Emma!"

The loud voice startled the blonde from her pensive state. In her attempt to straighten in her chair, she jolted and over corrected, causing the chair to tilt and dump her onto the tiled floor. "Really, Ruby?" Emma winced as she picked herself up from the floor. "Why are you sneaking around scaring people?"

"Seriously, dude? I called your name like a couple times." The younger brunette smiled, trying to recover from her laughing fit.

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

Ruby stared at Emma before rolling her eyes. "My shift is about to start. You said last week I was supposed to cover for David."

_You're losing your mind. _She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. "Right, right—I forgot. Sorry."

"Geez, what crawled up your butt and died?"

"Nothing," Emma sighed. "I'm bored."

Ruby looked around the empty sheriff's station. "Yeah," Ruby leaned against her deputy's desk and smiled across the room at Emma. "I hear it's been . . . quiet lately."

Emma wanted to slap that stupid grin off her face. The younger brunette with her large observant eyes and her wide toothy grin peered at the blonde with endless amusement. Without even asking, she knew Ruby had heard about her run in with Regina.

As if Ruby could hear her thoughts the brunette chimed in, confirming what she already knew. "So," the brunette began, that infuriating smile still claiming her delicate features. "Where's the good old mayor? I hear she hasn't been here since you two had a showdown."

"It wasn't a 'showdown'. You know how we get."

"I don't know, Em," Ruby tsked. "David thinks she's plotting your murder." Another of her rich laughs rang through the sheriff's station.

"Listen, Regina and I are good. We're friends and we have an understanding now. Things are better." Emma knew that Ruby was speaking in jest but she still felt a bit protective over the mayor.

"Okay, but let's be real; when have you _ever _known Regina to just let something go?"

"Ugh," Emma couldn't help but laugh at David and Ruby's imagination. Sure, the old Regina would have held a grudge and exacted some public and humiliating revenge. But the new Regina, her Regina was not like that. No, two nights of eating as a family, pleasant conversation, and making eyes at each other across the table convinced Emma beyond all else. She and Regina were in a good place. They were making progress and were very likely on their way to becoming . . . more. Regina was developing into something softer and more mature. Sure, she still had her fire—so much damn fire—but she could tell Regina was learning to let things go. _Right?_

"Mary Margaret thinks—"

"Come on, Ruby! Did you guys have a meeting or something? It wasn't that bad."

"_Mary Margaret thinks_," she rolled her eyes and continued, "that Regina is adding a little poison to your food every night." Ruby rubbed her hands together and let out an evil laugh. "We're all pretty much just waiting for you to keel over. You know, I volunteer as a candy striper at the hospital, so I can come visit you when she puts antifreeze in your cider." The laughter rang in Emma's ears and again she couldn't help but laugh along.

Ruby may have been crazy with a wild imagination, but she was fun and that definitely made the time go by faster.

Emma shook her head at her friend. "You're such a nut."

**Friday (Sheriff's Station):**

"Well, someone's certainly in a good mood this morning."

_Yeah, because in eight and a half hours I'll be out of this time warp and fingers deep—_

The station's telephone blared through the shabby office tearing the blonde from her intimate thoughts. "This is Sheriff Swan."

"Hey, Emma."

"Mary Margaret, hi." Emma's smile brightened when she saw David stand taller and puff his chest at the sound of her friend's name. "She can't see you, you know," she mouthed to him and rolled her eyes playfully before handing him the phone and settling at her desk.

She couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. David sat at his desk and leaned back in his chair with that childish grin on his face. He ran is fingers through his dark sandy hair and chuckled at something Mary Margaret was saying. If only she and Regina could find that easy flow of conversation outside the privacy of the mayor's mansion. Couldn't they have daily conversations and take strolls down the street? Couldn't they be at Granny's together without Henry and just . . . be together? It startled her to realize how much she wanted that—how much she wanted to _be _with Regina. She wanted all of her. She wanted the brunette's coldness, her quiet anger, her heated stares, her passionate kisses, her unreasonable demands, and her surprisingly compassionate nature. She wanted all of it. She craved the woman. She needed her. Regina invaded her senses and not being able to see her at the sheriff's station for the fourth day in a row was akin to torture. How in the hell had she gone from being sorely vexed by the constant presence of the brunette's shadow to needing it? She was going through withdrawals. Regina had turned her into an addict. She missed the way the mayor sat on top of her desk with her legs crossed at the knees and her tight skirts riding up her thighs. Had it really been so bad, seeing Regina at the sheriff's station every day? Regina Mills was an exquisite molten substance that burned to the touch, but Emma could never seem to sate her hunger. Two thoughts crossed her mind as she continued to watch her deputy grin into the phone: one, she _had _to show Regina just how desperately her absence bothered her—she had to make her understand what four days of her absence during working hours had done to her; and two, she had let Regina know that the brunette not coming to visit her at the sheriff's office was _not _an option. Even if no one else knew the true nature of their relationship . . . hell, even if Emma didn't know the true nature of their relationship, she realized that she still needed to see that vexing . . . impossible . . . tantalizing woman.

"I love you too," she heard him say before finally putting the phone back on its receiver. "So," David turned his attention to the blonde sheriff. "Any plans this weekend?"

"Eh, nothing really. Henry has a sleepover tonight so Regina and I are just going to have a girls' night," Emma relayed in a bored tone. Just the mere thought of being alone with Regina caused an urgent throbbing between her legs.

David released an astonished laugh and his crystal eyes stared into green orbs with nothing short of amazement. "I don't know what you did," he said shaking his head, "but the Regina I know would have _never_ had a girls' night." He laughed again and scratched his head playfully at the thought. "Did you slip her something?"

"Me? I thought you and Ruby were convinced that she was putting something in _my _food."

"Oh we're sure of it."

"Yeah, whatever."

"What do you guys do, anyway? Regina doesn't exactly strike me as the girls' night type. You guys don't seriously sit around and gossip and talk about your man problems, do you?"

"Oh, man." Emma groaned. "Could you imagine? Ha! I think she really would poison me then." They fell into another easy laughter. There was no way in hell she could tell David what happened on the days and nights that she and Regina were alone together. No, as agreed, what was happening between the two women would remain a secret.

Emma did her best not to watch the clock on the wall throughout the rest of the day. She failed miserably—complete and utter failure. She stalked the blessed hour that she pined for, willing the five o'clock hour to come set her free so that she could finally, _finally _be in the presence of the one person she desired to see the most. Instead, time and that pesky hour proved to be an elusive prey and refused to bend to her impatient staring. _2:54? Seriously? Why do you hate me?_ She could ask David to play a round of darts, but that was her pass-time when she was alone and bored at the sheriff's station. Besides, without the thrill of risking being caught by Regina, what was the damn point?

The blonde wasn't sure what irritated her more: the fact that time itself seemed satisfied to stand still and mock her desperation; or, the fact that David seemed content to just kick back and _enjoy _such a fruitless Friday. Seriously, Wednesday he was practically climbing the walls because he too felt the sting of boredom in the sheriff's station. What changed? How was he so at ease staring at a stupid computer screen all day?

3:17

4:06

4:08. _4:08? _Absolutely not. The clock on the wall had to be broken—nevermind that she could hear the faint ticking—it was still broken. The digital display on her computer told her the same sad story. It was a conspiracy—hateful machine was old anyway and probably riddled with viruses.

"Ya know," David smiled without looking up from his computer screen, "giving that clock the evil eye isn't going to make a difference. Hang in there, Swan."

"Shut up, David."

"Just saying. Find a way to pass the time, Emma."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"Cat videos," he beamed.

Emma's jaw practically hit the floor. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, Mary Margaret and I watch them together. They're cute."

"Who _are _you?" Emma stared at David with mock horror. Was that what fate had in store for her? Snuggling on the couch with Regina and watching _cat _videos? Did love really turn people into doe-eyed whimsical fairies flinting about without a care in world? _Love? I don't love her. I just want her . . . all the time. I mean, I wouldn't say no if she asked me to watch a cat video. _Emma forced herself away from her private torment when she felt the familiar stirrings of panic blossom in her bosom. It wasn't the first time that four-lettered word crept into her psyche regarding that illustrious brunette. She didn't love her, she didn't. She just needed her, to breathe her in—to feel the silk of her hair sliding through her fingers. The sheriff needed those blood red lips against hers and those deceptively proficient hands to rake over her body. If they happened to watch a few clips of domestic felines in between . . . then no big deal. _Let's be real, Regina would stab me with one of her heels if I pulled up a CAT video. _Emma couldn't help but laugh at the mere thought. No, David and Mary Margaret could keep their 'cute' videos. Emma would take her complex relationship with Regina—even on a bad day.

"What's so funny," David asked.

"Just wondering if Mary Margaret ever lets you visit your balls? Where does she keep them?"

David howled in good natured laughter. He doubled over and his mirth reverberated through the small station. "On the kitchen counter. She lets me visit them whenever I want."

They cackled until Emma felt her eyes water. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she laughed until she cried.

"Make fun now, but one day you'll meet a guy—a bad boy, I'm guessing. You know, some dark mysterious fellow that makes you want to do all kind of stuff you never thought you'd do," he smiled cockily. "One day, they're going to yell timber over you, Emma. And when you fall, I'll try not to say 'told ya'."

Her smile faltered as she looked away from her colleague. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes and she hoped that he would remain too lost in his own merriment to notice the change in her demeanor. "If you say so," she joked half-heartedly. Emma was grateful that he didn't seem to notice and that the awkwardness she now felt in the atmosphere was apparently one-sided. What Emma found truly bothersome was not the fact that David's 'prophecy' included a guy, but that minus the assumption that Emma's soul mate was a man, David had just described . . . well, Regina. _What is happening to me?_

5:03

_Yes!_

"See? That wasn't so bad." David powered down his computer and grabbed his coat from his chair. His smile widened eyes when he saw that Emma was already standing at the threshold of the station's entrance. "Ha! That must be some hell of a girls' night you two have planned."

"Definitely," she quipped as she flashed a goofy lop-sided grin. "We're going to paint our nails and read Cosmo." Emma flipped her hair and batted her eyes.

"Emma, stick with what you know. You're a tomboy down to your soul," he laughed.

"Well I thought it was pretty good," she grumbled as they walked out together. "I can be a girly-girl. I can go full valley girl or straight diva."

"Trust me, leave the diva attitude for Regina, she's mastered it."

"Hey, she's not a diva."

"That's right, somehow hell froze over and she's your new best friend."

Emma abdomen bubbled with laughter. "Have a good weekend, David."

"Yeah you too, Emma. Try not to have too much fun," David joked as he and Emma locked up the sheriff's office for the evening.

_You have no idea._

**Friday Evening:**

Regina Mills examined herself in the full length mirror as she ran her slender hands over her frame. The strapless charcoal dress hugged her hips in a manner that even she found to be utterly enticing. She fluffed her hair one last time before walking out of her bedroom and heading down stairs.

Tonight was going to be perfect . . . everything was in place and she had been preparing for and anticipating this evening all week. _All week. _It had been so hard to stay away from the blonde these last four days, but it was necessary for her plan. On more than one occasion during the week her thoughts turned to the blonde who she presumed was sitting idly by at the sheriff's station. It would have been so easy to grace the station with her presence, but her pride and anger would not let her succumb to any such notions. She'd grown so accustomed to the blonde being such a permanent fixture in her life that it had never occurred to her that she _wouldn't _see the sheriff nearly every day. Even if that uncomfortable truth was not solidly planted in her brain—the fact that she _had_ to see Emma—there was one other truth, a more welcoming factor that could not be ignored: No one, not one damned person would ever tell her when or where she could go or how often. _Ha, a babysitter indeed._

She would _not _be disrespected and she would _not _be dictated to. If she and Emma were going to be together then the blonde had to learn that her enticing mouth had the power to bring either punishment or reward.

_Be together? Absolutely ridiculous._

No, Regina did not want to _be_ with Emma. Claim her? Yes. Give and receive pleasure? Without question. Get lost in that sheepish smile and those child-like eyes that reminded her so much of her son at times? Yes, but these things did not amount to love. For heaven's sake, the blonde woman was immature, reckless . . . she had no self control. She had . . . _an extremely talented mouth and the stamina to prove her athletic prowess. _Regina shook the thoughts from her head. She couldn't allow herself to get distracted. She had a specific goal in mind and she needed to stay focused. Tonight, she would make her point and she had to ensure that Emma understood the message loud and clear.

Emma, that idiot—_her _idiot, was heading straight into the abyss of Regina's retribution, in approximately . . . Regina glanced at her watch . . . fifteen minutes and the gorgeous fool didn't have a clue. Her trap had been laid so perfectly. The mayor had made sure that the two women carried on with their regular meals all through the week. She needed Emma to be calm, relaxed . . . unsuspecting. After all, Regina was not blind. She had taken notice of how nervous Emma seemed that first night after . . . _after she forgot her place and breached the terms of our agreement. _The brunette's nostrils flared as a fresh wave of anger coursed through her body. It pulsated through her veins like lava consuming an unprotected river and transforming the tranquility of the stream into a mass of crimson fury. She licked her lips with anticipation as she thought of all she planned to do to the blonde. Emma had to learn. She had to be trained. After tonight, the blonde would think long and hard about the potential consequences of her actions.

The doorbell chimes announced the arrival of her special guest. Regina sighed happily as she glided to the front door. Truly, the young woman had brought this on herself. _Yes, she has to be taught,_ Regina mused deviously before schooling her features into a pleasant smile as she opened the door. The attractive blonde stood there with one hand on her hip and that gaudy leather . . . _pleather_ . . . jacket and an overnight bag thrown over her shoulder.

"Emma," she purred.

"Hey, Regina."

The brunette could smell the swirl of expectation and desire radiating from the younger woman. It filled her senses and she licked her lips slowly, smiling when she saw the blonde stare longingly at her slightly parted and now moist lips.

"Right on time. Come in, dear." she smiled as she stepped aside.

Emma squeezed past her. Regina barely managed to stifle the moan lodged in her throat when she felt the blonde's chest graze her arm as she entered the mansion. _Oh sweetheart, you won't be able to blink by the time I'm done with you._

Regina closed the door after the blonde and bolted the locks—sealing the sheriff's fate. Emma literally had no idea what she had just walked into.

**Friday Night (The Reckoning):**

Once Emma heard the locks click, she hurled around and pressed the mayor against the large white door. The two slender women pressed their foreheads together and closed their eyes—each needing to breathe in the other woman's scent.

"I missed you, Gina," Emma whispered while letting her jacket and bag fall to the floor.

Regina smirked knowingly. "You saw me last night, Emma." Of course she knew the context of the blonde's statement. It would make tonight all the more enjoyable. _You shall have more of me than I believe you are ready for, sheriff._

Emma gripped the mayor's slender hips and wedged her jean-clad thigh between the mayor's legs. Regina grabbed the back her Emma's neck locking her hands together and Emma pushed the brunette's tight dress up past her hips and rocked her muscled leg back and forth between Regina's smooth legs. The brunette shifted and hooked her arms under Emma's armpits and grabbed on to the strong shoulders. Her moans spilled directly into Emma's left ear. They panted and gripped each other tighter as Regina thrust down on Emma's leg. It was so perfect. The blonde's leg was positioned just right. Regina needed this. She realized that she had to have this now, she had to have at least one climax before she could begin punishing Emma. She couldn't allow her own need to hinder her plans. She had thought too long and carefully about how she would break the blonde and she would be damned if she got in her own way.

"Emma!" Her hips twitched against the leg and her clitoris throbbed as the blood rushed to the sensitive tissue. She gasped the blonde's name and tightened her grip on the sheriff as she rode the euphoria. Now, now she could focus.

Emma waited until she was sure Regina had calmed and could stand on her own before she moved away from the brunette and released her from her entrapment. The brunette pushed herself away from the door and cleared her throat.

"Well, that certainly was an . . . unexpected greeting," she blushed.

The blonde examined her handiwork and plastered an irritatingly cocky smile on her face. "Yeah, what can I say? I like my hugs to be thorough," she shrugged.

Regina smoothed down her dress and raked her manicured hands through her hair. It had taken her an hour to get ready and Emma had destroyed all her efforts and hard work in a matter of minutes.

"It's not a terrible start to our evening, Miss Swan. Now, how about dinner and then we can delve into more . . . interesting pursuits?" Regina took Emma's hand and led her toward the dining room.

"We're not eating in the kitchen?"

"Not tonight, dear. I thought an intimate meal by candle light would be nice."

Emma furrowed her brows at the mayor's reply. "What's the special occasion?"

"This is the first private moment you and I have had since—"

"Nine days ago, Regina," Emma offered, almost bitterly. "We haven't been able to touch each other for nine days."

"Fine. Either way, I've been looking forward to this time with you."

"Really?" The blonde's eyes lit up.

"Yes," Regina admitted. "You are all I have been able to think of these past few days." Her tone dropped again to one that Emma could have sworn she heard a few nights ago. It was cryptic and slightly menacing. If Regina was nearly as frustrated as Emma, then her tone was likely the by-product of the caged sexual tension that the two women had not been able to release onto each other. It wasn't lethal, Emma told herself. Regina was simply just as horny as she was and they both needed to do something about it.

Emma sat at the table and took in the scene before her. The light from the red candles on the table played beautifully against the stark white walls of the dimly lit room. Regina was right, it was nice and intimate. The brunette emerged from the kitchen with a bottle of wine and a bottle of her apple cider. Emma thought of Ruby when she saw the cider and couldn't help but chuckle. If Regina noticed, she didn't say a word. She merely continued her role as the graceful server by bringing out their meals.

Emma stared down at the plate before her. _The hell?_ _Has she been hanging out with Mary Margaret? Cat videos, here I come. _"Regina, uh what is this?"

Regina smirked as she positioned herself across from the obviously repulsed sheriff. "It's called an Antipasto salad, dear."

"The anti pasta? Blasphemy food, Regina?"

Regina's smooth laughter filled the cozy setting before she spelled the name of the dish for the ignorant woman. "It's an Italian dish, dear. Some people make theirs without pasta, but I find that I enjoy adding tortellini to my dish."

"What else is in it," the blonde asked while picking through the colorful meal.

"Mm. Lettuce, salami, fresh mozzarella, artichokes, tomatoes, and pepperoncini. There's a bit of my homemade vinaigrette that I'm fairly proud of. Try it, dear. Trust me, you'll like it. Besides, I can't allow you to eat anything too heavy tonight—bottomless pit though you may be." Regina poured herself a glass of her cider and filled Emma's as well.

"Huh? Why do I need to eat light?" The blonde scrunched her face, not comprehending why how much she ate meant anything to Regina or their night together.

The mayor licked her red lips before she answered. Her words were deliberate, slow, and still there was that certain . . . deadly quality that made the sheriff's mouth run dry. "Because, sheriff, I have no desire for you to experience abdominal pangs and ruin our time together. We have a long night ahead of us."

Emma chuckled at the explanation. "Regina," she started, thinking the brunette obviously didn't understand what she was saying. "You're not supposed to eat a large meal before _rigorous exercises_, _that's_ what causes . . ."

Regina's smile spread across her entire face as a brick of realization slammed into Emma. "I stand by my statement, Ms. Swan."

Emma fought down the nervous lump that formed in her throat. Without further protest, she delved into her antichrist pasta with an eagerness she didn't know she had. She hummed in appreciation as she devoured the spicy dish. It was delicious. Yet, even if it hadn't been—even if it had been a Mary Margaret signature dish, there was no way in hell she was going to ruin the night with something as juvenile and embarrassing as stomach cramps. No, she'd starve before she let that happen.

Emma cleared her throat, she had to change the subject or they wouldn't make it through their meal. "So," she began casually. "How was your week?"

Regina lifted her schooled gaze to meet the blonde's eyes. _Remember her 'super power'. _Regina settled for avoidance veiled in the cloak of truth. "Not very eventful, I must say—just the usual workings of my office when we are not in our reports and meetings seasons. Aside from the development I mentioned earlier, there was nothing out of the ordinary."

The blonde studied the brunette for a moment before nodding and accepting her answer.

"How about you, Emma?"

"How about me, what?"

_Idiot. _"How was your work week, dear?"

"Ugh, please. We were bored out of our minds, Regina. David played with his food and watched cat videos. I prayed that someone would steal something—break something—_do _something. Anything!"

Regina chuckled as the blonde continued to describe how excruciating her week had been. Despite the utter nothingness the blonde described, Regina knew the truth. Emma missed seeing Regina at the sheriff's station. She had recognized the look of guilt on the sheriff's face when Emma arrived at her home that Tuesday night.

"But enough about my horrible week." Emma hesitated before she continued. "So what was this mysterious 'development' that had all your spare time this week?" _What had you so busy that you couldn't come see me? Not even once?_

The blood red lips pursed together in a tiny smirk. Emma was not sure how she was supposed to read the mayor's face.

"Oh there's no mystery, Ms. Swan. In fact, it involves you," the mayor again took the safe track and carefully disguised her elusive answer with a truthful statement. She morphed her features into an open and unassuming canvas and perfectly played the part of someone providing a normal answer to a seemingly innocent question.

"Really?" The blonde leaned forward eagerly.

"Mm, indeed. I will share the details with you later tonight," she sighed. "But yes, I spent the week gathering what we would need."

Emma did a poor job of hiding her curiosity and excitement. Finally some action was coming. Regina needed her help with something. Regina needed her. Whatever it was, Emma was sure that after they made love, Regina would tell her all about it and then they would _have _to meet on a regular basis next week to go over their plans. She smiled to herself, satisfied and comforted with the fact that she would get to see her Regina back at the station. They ate the rest of their meal in a comfortable silence. Emma couldn't help but periodically glance up at the mayor and offer a shy smile. Regina was so beautiful and Emma couldn't recall the exact moment it happened, but she felt so . . . at home in the mayor's presence.

After they finished their meals, Emma grabbed their dishes and empty wine glasses and headed toward the kitchen.

"Really, Emma. You don't need to do that now." Regina's protest was merely for show. She had planned this night down to every possible detail and she knew the blonde would want to make good on her promise to wash the dirty dishes. In fact, she counted on it.

"Save it, Regina. You promised I could." Emma stalked off with the items.

"Fine," the brunette sighed, "very well." She followed Emma into the kitchen and watched as the blonde began to fill one side of the sink with dish water and the other with rinsing water. She waited patiently for the blonde to turn off the faucet before she crept up behind her and wrapped one arm around the blonde's toned waist. _And so it begins._

Emma shivered at the feel of Regina's breasts pressed against her tank top. "H-hey," she cleared her throat. "I'm trying to clean up here."

Regina brushed Emma's golden mane to one side before her tongue snaked out and licked the tip of Emma's ear. The mayor smiled at the sound of a plate plopping back into the soapy water and clinking against the other kitchenware. "By all means, Ms. Swan, continue."

The mayor rubbed her warm hand over the front of Emma's jeans and stroked the lapel that hid the zipper.

"Knock it off, Regina." Emma's breathy laugh hitched in her throat as she whined from the pressure of the mayor's hand against her pelvis. Regina unbuttoned Emma's jeans and began to pull the zipper down. Emma's voice trembled as she spoke to the mayor. "Regina, h-how am I supposed to do this i-if you keep doing that?"

"Figure it out. I better not hear one dish break, do you understand me?" She hissed into the quivering woman's ear. "You said that you missed me, Emma." She licked her earlobe again and shoved her hand into the front of Emma's tight jeans. "I simply wish to see how much," she finished innocently.

"Re-Regina . . ."

"Continue, Emma. They're not going to wash themselves, dear."

Emma's head fell back onto Regina's shoulder at the first feel of the older woman's fingers against her underwear.

"I can't. You're driving me crazy."

"We had a deal. Wash the dishes, Emma."

Regina pressed her fingers firmly against Emma's panty-covered lips and worked her fingers in circular motions until the blonde was grinding against her hand and nearly crushing it against the kitchen sink. Each heavy downward stroke caused her fingers to flick the tip of Emma's clitoris. The blonde grunted and sighed each time the tiny bud was assaulted. Regina wrapped her free arm tightly around the blonde and placed kisses on the back of her neck. She was going to claim the blonde right there in the kitchen. Emma was hers. And tonight, starting right then and there, Emma was going to have to learn the expectations Regina had for her.

"I don't hear you washing," the brunette ground out sternly. She moved her hand faster.

"Ah! S-s-seriously, Regina?!"

Emma could barely keep her eyes open. With each stroke her face morphed further into a perfect picture of an orgasm that had yet to manifest but that was certainly making its impending arrival known.

"You gave me your word. Do it!"

She dropped the plate again into the water but couldn't seem to care.

"Babe, you gotta stop or I can't," she half panted, half gasped.

The mayor laughed darkly and licked the sweat from the back of Emma's neck. "Understand me, _sheriff. _I'm _not _stopping until I can see my reflection in every plate and utensil in that damned sink." Again, she quickened her pace and pressed more firmly against Emma's swollen labia. She could feel the blonde's body beginning to tense. Regina would not deny the beauty her climax. No, she would draw it from her and let it slam back into her with a force that would surely knock her over if the brunette were not standing behind her. No, she would not deny her. She would force it from her and then, before the blonde could even piece together her last name, she would start it all over again. They would stand there as long as it took. They would stand there all night if they had to. Plans or no plans, no one was leaving that kitchen until Emma Swan washed those dishes. If Regina had to fuck her one plate or one fork at a time, then so be it.

The sheriff cried out, gripping the edge of the kitchen sink when the first wave knocked her over. She heaved and panted, gasping out Regina's name in a heated chant that brought a cruel smile to the brunette's face.

After a moment, Emma attempted to pull away. She assumed that once she'd ridden out her orgasm that Regina would move away from her and let her actually wash the dishes . . . but the brunette stayed put. The older woman kept their bodies welded together with a strength that Emma had never taken the time to notice. The blonde whimpered when she realized that Regina's hand was still between her legs. She nearly cried when she felt Regina's hand start to move again and still the blonde had not washed one dish, not _one._

The mayor sighed with utter contentment when she finally slipped her hand inside of Emma's underwear. The natural lubrication greeted her and invited her to its habitat. Her two fingers pursued the liquid and thrust roughly into the tight canal from which the nectar came. The walls of the silky cavern welcomed her home and squeezed her excavating fingers as she pushed deeper until her palm met the blonde's clitoris.

"I won't ask you again, Emma. Wash the dishes."

Regina began thrusting in earnest, her forceful ministrations making the blonde's hips thrust back into Regina's pelvis.

"Okay!" Emma cried out. " 'Gina, okay!"

She was desperate. She felt the next attack of heat aiming for her and she didn't think she would be able to handle a continued onslaught. Those hands were too knowing and those strokes were too precise. Her trembling hands released the edge of the sink and she reached yet again into the now lukewarm water to retrieve a plate. She did her best to scrub the plates with the scour pad. She cried out when Regina slowed the pace to hard deep thrusts, pressing against the most susceptible area of her inner being with every artful movement. The blonde scrubbed those plates like her life depended on it. She attacked the forks and the wine glasses with the same motivation but it was too late. The fire burst through her belly and seized control of her mind before she could tell Regina that she was finished. She bucked wildly toward the kitchen counter and Regina held on for the ride. Held on? No, she was the conductor of this freight train.

"It's done! It's done," she kept gasping through her orgasm. Even after Regina pulled away from her, she continued her mantra—a part of her fearful that Regina would reach for her again. She slumped over the sink and waited for her knees to stop shaking and for her breathing to return to normal.

Regina stood behind the blonde and surveyed the heaving mess before her. She sucked Emma's juices from her fingers—still never taking her eyes from the blonde's trembling form. She smiled as she glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall; it was only just past seven-thirty. _The night is so young. How delightful._

"Very nice, _sheriff._"

The blonde jumped at the sound of the voice behind her. Even in that moment, skittish and spent, her desire for the woman poured over her.

"Come, Emma. I have made preparations for our night together."

Emma turned and saw Regina's hand extended. She reached out, as though in a daze, to accept the hand and allowed herself to be led up the stairs. She ignored the soreness between her legs and her weak knees. The evening had barely begun and already Regina had her considering tapping out and suggesting they spend the rest of their time together some other way. Surely now Emma would be allowed to please the mayor and the two women could slip into a satisfied slumber. Yet, the moment Emma followed Regina and entered into the master bedroom, she had a feeling in the pit of her gut that Regina had something completely different in mind.

Regina turned to face Emma. Their lips met for a slow and sensuous kiss before Regina stepped around the blonde to close and lock the bedroom door. Had Emma turned around, she would have seen the mayor remove the key and place it under a notepad on the mahogany desk that was against the left wall nearest to the door. No one was leaving. As a precaution, the mayor had already locked and removed the keys from the balcony door before Emma arrived.

Emma remained glued to her spot facing the bed. Regina circled around the blonde slowly, giving her time to take in her surroundings. She knew Emma noticed the boxes on the nightstand, the scarf covering up some items on her vanity, and the storage cooler in front of the nightstand beside the bed.

"What's all this," Emma asked good-naturedly, not even slightly suspicious. Her body was still recovering from Regina's demonstration in the kitchen. The older woman obviously had something up her sleeve and Emma's freshly manhandled center clenched with expectation.

"Just a few essentials for the evening, dear."

Regina continued to circle Emma. She knew she could not allow too much time to pass before her next round of onslaughts. Not tonight. Regina couldn't have that; she couldn't allow Emma to recoup her senses—not if she was going to turn the blonde into a blithering and incoherent mess. She stopped in front of the sheriff and pulled her toward the bed.

Regina side-stepped the blonde and pushed her with more force than necessary. Emma plopped gracelessly onto the California king and leaned back on her elbows while her feet dangled off the bed. Emma gazed up at the mayor as though she were in a dream. How on earth had she managed to get the attention of someone like Regina Mills? Emma let her hungry eyes roam over the brunette. She watched with rapt attention as Regina, this minx, this exotic Siren sank to her knees and removed Emma's boots, taking her socks along with them. She tossed them carelessly to the side.

"Your pants, Emma. Your underwear. Now." Regina's dark eyes met Emma's and the blonde felt herself being pulled toward the rocks of the ocean that was created by none other than Hurricane Regina.

Emma lifted her shaky hips in order to allow Regina to pull them down her legs. The brunette snatched the pants and panties free and threw them over her shoulder. She tore her heated gaze from Emma's dazed eyes and leered at the glistening offering that was now inches from her face and completely uncovered.

"You will remember this night, sheriff," she whispered before diving between Emma's legs and sending her tongue directly into the younger woman's core.

Emma's slender hips sprung from the bed, feeding more of herself into the greedy mouth beneath her. Regina's hands cupped Emma's behind and forced her higher off the bed in order to drink more deeply from the woman. The sheriff was lost. Her was being taken on a journey in a strange land and she found little familiarity in her surroundings. While Regina could certainly be demanding and energetic in bed, there was a certain . . . savagery . . . a particular primitive quality that seemed to be birthed from the deepest caverns of the mayor's being. Emma had never experienced this before. The suckling and tongue lashings between her thighs were beastly and each dominating pressure and flick heaped upon her brought forth the cries of a madwoman.

"Oh, _shit!_"

She slammed her head back on the bed and her back arched until nearly only her shoulder blades touched the bed. The first climax trampled and stomped its way through her as though she were nothing. It raided her body and took every ounce of energy it could find. The burst of lights behind her eye lids swayed back and forth, dancing in the darkness of her closed eyes and moving to the rhythm of the apex of her orgasm. She collapsed on the bed—her lifeless body hummed with exhaustion and appreciation. _Regina._

She ran a tired hand through Regina's now tousled hair and stroked the crown of her head. The brunette lifted her head and only then did Emma see, only then did the mayor purposefully let her mask fall in order to show Emma the pure unadulterated fire-breathing anger. The brunette was seething.

"R-Regina?" Emma pushed herself on her elbows once more and back pedaled to the center of the bed—away from the brunette. She couldn't explain the exact moment it hit her or how she knew, but the moment the mayor advanced toward her, Emma began to piece together that all was not well. Regina crawled between Emma's legs once again. The brunette held Emma's legs open with her forearms and she sank her tongue back into Emma. "Ah!" Without thinking, she grabbed fists full of Regina's hair and attempted to pull the brunette away from her sensitive core.

Regina lifted her head and bore her black eyes into Emma's frightened green ones. "Let's play a game, sheriff. Hm?" The smile on the brunette's face burned its image into Emma's scattered brain. "You are not to touch me. Do you understand?"

When the blonde failed to reply, Regina intertwined three of her fingers together and thrust them harshly into the blonde. She slammed into the woman until Emma's heaving gasps became near hysteric cries. She was about to come again. "Yes!" She cried out as her hands snapped to the sheets and pulled at them for dear life. "I got it! I understand!"

Regina pulled her hand from Emma's drenched center and lowered her head again. Just before taking Emma into her mouth, she stared at the woman and spoke carefully to ensure Emma understood every word.

"I warned you, Emma."

_Warning,_ she thought frantically. _What warning? We haven't even talked really except for the family dinners and those barely lasted two hours! We haven't said two words to each without Henry around since . . . oh no._

Full realization hit the blonde as Regina's lips descended on her mound. The peak of her orgasm returned and Regina forced her to ride right through it; and then brought her back to the edge of the cliff—showed her the rocks and the steep fall—and pushed her over it again.

She inhaled large amounts of air and blinked rapidly, praying that the room would stop spinning. Regina ordered her to sit with her back against the headboard. Despite her apprehension, the blonde felt a force greater than herself move her into position. Regina reached over to the nightstand for one of the nondescript boxes. Her evil smile reached her black eyes as she studied the blonde's face. Emma was staring at the box. Her labored breathing became more pronounced as she watched Regina slowly open the box.

"Now, Sheriff Swan. Let's begin with box number one." Her lusty cackle filled the room.

Emma's eyes widened at the contents of the box. " 'Gina, no," she sputtered nervously. She was considering bolting from the bed and making a run for it but she was trapped between the mayor and the headboard. "I'm sorry. I'm _so _sorry." Emma whimpered and pleaded with her peridot eyes.

"Oh, you will be, sweetheart," she hissed as she hiked up her dress and straddled Emma. "I can guarantee you after tonight, Ms. Swan, you will heed me and respect my title."

Regina leaned down and captured Emma's lips into a bruising kiss before invading her mouth with that deliberate and heat-seeking tongue. Regina grabbed one of Emma's arms and pressed it firmly into the headboard before securing her wrist with a thick black leather shackle. She quickly did the same to the second wrist and leaned back to survey the masterpiece of a scantily-clad Emma Swan restrained on her bed.

Regina climbed off of Emma and slid down her body yet again. The blonde was a quivering and sensitive ball of nerves and Regina could not care less. The brunette took the blonde's labia into her mouth and sucked her. She pushed her tongue between the swollen and compressed lips and attacked Emma's clitoris with one goal in mind: to fuck the smart ass mother of her child within an inch of her life . . .

** _Present time, the morning after . . ._ **

Her limbs protested and rebelled against her. She willed her arms to move but they remained tangled in the sheets. Her legs proved just as useless. Her entire body betrayed her, simply refusing to so much as twitch. The mere thought of trying to get out of bed made her back and neck ache. Emma gave up the struggle against her own body and relaxed her muscles as best she could. Her green eyes took in the stucco pattern of the mayor's ceiling and examined every detail. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen the ceiling before. Many a night she had been on her back with the white ceiling being the only thing her eyes could focus on in the darkness. But here and now with the luminous rays of sun invading the mayor's bedroom, Emma took in every detail. She convinced herself that she was simply taking it all in because she wanted to, not because it hurt like hell to move. She was taking these few moments to appreciate the beauty of the room—this particular part of the room. That's all there was to it.

"Something the matter, dear?"

Instantly her stomach tightened. The raspy liquid voice filled her ears and Emma wished that her limbs would just cooperate. Flashes of their previous night swam through her mind. Something akin to fear and adrenaline mixed frustratingly with the stir of arousal that she felt creeping up her spine and through her womb. _Damn._

Regina stood in the doorway of her bedroom watching the prostrate sheriff and smiled knowingly. The mayor didn't wait for Emma to sit up or even shift her position on the bed. Instead, she eased further into her room, closing and locking the door before standing over Emma. The blonde's impossibly green eyes met hers and Regina could see the apprehension, and yes even the submission from the . . . rigorous lesson she'd had to teach the younger woman last night and long into the early hours of the morning before the sun came up. She knelt beside the bed so that she was as close to eye-level with Emma as she could be.

"Look at me, Emma." Regina grabbed Emma's chin and forced her head to turn so that their eyes met. Emma winced at the movement and Regina's smile brightened.

The younger woman was lost in the black wells of Regina's eyes. Why did Regina have to be such a goddess? Why did she have to be so intoxicating? Even now, with every limb and muscle sore and in agony, Emma realized that her chest was heaving and her heart rate was elevated simply from looking into the woman's eyes. She knew, she _knew _that those dark chocolate eyes, the same ones that pinned her with their piercing stares all through the night, weren't just looking at her. Those eyes were searching her face and body language, knowing that the victim of last night's onslaught was remembering everything little thing the mayor had done to her. Those eyes were searching the blonde's sea green orbs for recognition and compliance and the satisfied grin on Regina's face told Emma that the mayor had found exactly what she was looking for.

"I realize that the position of sheriff leaves you very little to do on the weekend. However, I cannot allow you to stay in my bed all day."

"W-why did you lock the door," Emma asked in a tiny voice, ignoring Regina's statement. The innocent and timid tone it carried pleased Regina greatly. It was the same tone Henry adopted after being fitfully reprimanded and wanting to ensure that his punishment was complete and that he was no longer in trouble. It was a tone that beseeched Regina for mercy and one that the conveyor hoped displayed contrition.

"Do relax, Miss Swan." The mayor licked her lips. "Henry will be home soon. I simply thought you would like to preserve some dignity. It seems our son has yet to master the art of knocking before entering my bedroom." She reached out to stroke the messy blonde hair cascading over her satin sheets. Her smile was now tender and adoring. Even she found it odd at times how easily she could switch emotions. "Now, take as much time as you need. I am going to start lunch."

The mayor's eyes shifted to Emma's mouth. Her thumb grazed the sheriff's bottom lip and Emma sucked the kiss-swollen lip between her teeth and whimpered. "I will make a big lunch for you and Henry. How does that sound?"

Emma nodded.

"Speak up, dear."

"Yeah that's-that's great. Thanks."

"Wonderful. I am not particularly hungry," Regina's voice dropped. "I ate my fill last night." Her voice slithered into Emma's brain and she gasped as the memories danced once more in her mind. "Now, we just need to put something in _your_ mouth."

Regina removed her hand from Emma's lips and rose to her feet. Before either woman could utter another word, the sound of the front door swinging open and slamming against the wall of the foyer snapped the women to attention. They listened as Henry stomped up the stairs—seemingly bounding up to the second floor with the energy that only a preteen could possibly possess.

"Mooom! I'm home," he announced from the other side of the door. Without further preamble, he turned the handle and pushed it a bit harder than necessary when the door refused to yield to his manipulations.

Emma heaved a sigh of relief when the door didn't open. Never in her life had she been so grateful for Regina's foresight. The brunette stared down at Emma, no longer smiling. She seemed to be studying the sheriff as if she were trying to make a decision about something. "Okay, sweetheart," Regina called out to Henry while still looking at Emma. "I will be out in a moment and we can make lunch together."

"Okay. I want hoagies!"

"Henry, that's barbaric. We will have normal sandwiches."

"Fine, then I'll eat four normal sandwiches, which is basically . . . a hoagie."

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose. This brand of impish logic surely came from Emma's genes. She sighed before she relented. "Fine, my little prince."

"Mooom . . .," he whined. "Can we have soda?"

"Water."

"Ugh, punch?"

"Water."

"Lemonade mix?"

"I have no idea how that garbage even made it into this house. Apple juice."

"Deal," he chirped from the other side before he walked away.

Regina's smile returned as she scanned the blonde's body yet again. "I'll leave you to it, Emma. It would seem that we are having 'hoagies' for lunch."

With that, Regina quietly exited the room, leaving Emma to will her body to finally listen to the signals she was sending and crawl out of bed.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meh, I guess you could call this smutty-ish; but there's some plot in here. Not like Part One (see Part Three for that ;-)

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

**Two Weeks Later:**

Emma fired off two more shots from her standard issue. She chuckled bemusedly to herself as she imagined that each tin can represented yet another aspect of her personality being blasted into oblivion by her own crippling cowardice.

_Bang! There goes my nerves of steel._

_Bang! Aaand there goes my self respect._

When both tin can targets were whipped from their perch with the force of the bullets she sent their way, the blonde stepped aside absent mindedly to allow her shooting partner his turn.

Her deputy reacted with an unimpressed shrug before taking aim at his targets. Usually the blonde would flash her handsome subordinate one of her lop-sided grins—the grin of victory that usually followed after she won a round. David fired off the first shot of the next round and his can flew backwards as if sucked into a vortex. He glanced over at his companion, prepared to gloat but the blonde had her back turned to him. Her gun was now holstered and her hands were shoved into the pockets of her blue leather jacket. She dug the tip of her left boot in the dirt and sighed. The pair stood in the awkward silence in the middle of the woods but one of them was obviously miles away. David cleared his throat, hoping to bring the blonde back to the here and now.

"You know . . . we can do more than just shoot when we're out here."

Emma turned quickly, as if it had just dawned on her that no, she was not alone yet.

"We could talk," he shrugged casually. "Mary Margaret says I'm a hell of a listener," he smiled proudly.

On any other day, Emma would have had a comeback. The blonde would have been able to pull from her artillery of wit, aim it, and shoot it at her friend. She would go on about how his feelings for a certain young damsel really had turned him into some soft-hearted bard who could barely make it through one conversation without mentioning the younger brunette's name. Had it been any other day, the comment would have led to their usual light-hearted repartee. Emma would tell him that love was turning him into a tree hugger, and he in turn would warn her that sooner or later she too would be caught in a fisher's net and dragged to the shores of agony and shackled to the very same fate. But today, they couldn't have that conversation. Emma couldn't fall into the jovial routine and live in the moment with her friend. Not when his words from two weeks prior came rushing back to her mind: _"One day they're going to yell timber over you . . ."_

She couldn't say anything. Not now. Not when the lumberjacks in her chest were hacking away at her heartstrings and pushing her falling heart . . . toward Regina. _Damnit . . ._

No matter how many times she'd pushed the thoughts away, no matter how deeply she traversed that path of denial, two weeks ago, Emma was forced to come to terms with her feelings. Through the panic, through the insecurities, and despite the unpredictable storm pattern that was Regina Mills, Emma was forced for admit it: She . . . she _loved_ Regina. Why did Regina have to do it? Why did she have to go and mess everything up?

For Regina, that night had been about showing Emma her place—about making sure the blonde understood that Regina's warnings were not to be taken lightly. Regina had put every effort in making sure that Emma was little more than a rag doll by the time the night was over. The brunette rode her that night until she'd passed out twice: once in the bed and once on the floor. Each time the heartless vixen would lightly slap Emma's face until she finally opened her eyes. _"Oh no you don't. Stay with me, Ms. Swan."_ No, Emma would _never_ disrespect Regina in public _ever_ again.

But for Emma, while she had most _definitely _learned her lesson, that night had peeled away the last bit of resistance she was holding on to. A conquering had never been so thorough. Regina began the night by seeking—no, demanding—the blonde's ultimate surrender, but ended their encounter in the wee hours of the morning by walking away with Emma's heart. Never, _never _in a million years would it have occurred to Emma to allow someone to do the things to her that Regina had done that night. And yet, giving herself to the mayor had been as natural as breathing. She trusted the mayor with her body, but damn it all; could she trust the mayor with her heart? Could she leave her emotions in the custody of a caregiver such as Regina? Would she be mocked? Would the brunette make love to Emma and then laugh in her face once she learned of the blonde's feelings? Would the mayor mock the sheriff and laugh her to scorn if she knew that Emma could think of nothing else but the impermeable older woman and her alert black eyes?

So no, she couldn't tease David about how consumed he seemed to be with Mary Margaret—not when the blonde's every waking thought was about the woman who'd taken her to bed those two weeks ago and fucked her body and her spirit. The mayor had broken the younger woman down and taken her pride and dignity as a sacrifice in the master bedroom that night. Regina had demanded proof of Emma's capitulation and the blonde's fevered cries and the soaked satin sheets were evidence that she had given the mayor exactly what she wanted. Why? Why had she let Regina do those things to her? Even now, in the middle of the _woods, _of all places, her body longed for the woman who had looked into Emma's eyes and stripped away every protective barrier the woman had spent years constructing. She cursed herself when the beating in her chest drummed against her ribcage at the mere thought of how Regina had all but carved her initials on Emma's body. The brunette, whether she realized it or not, had branded Emma and permanently imprinted that night in the blonde's psyche. Now, in the middle of a Sunday afternoon—standing in the woods with her friend and colleague—Emma, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, was once again fighting yet another wave of the downright pornographic snapshots of their night together.

_Emma shackled to the bed with Regina's face between her legs . . ._

_Regina's hands between her legs . . ._

_Being untied and flipped over . . ._

_The opening of yet another mysterious box . . ._

_Emma gripping the headboard . . ._

_The brunette showing her the phallus and the harness . . ._

_Being rode until she collapsed . . ._

_Regina pulling her hips off the bed and forcing her to stay on her hands and knees . . ._

_"_ _Fall again and I'll be forced to open the last box, Emma."_

_The blonde trembled from head to toe as she called upon every ounce of strength in her reserves to heed the stern and sultry warning . . ._

_Emma being dragged to the floor . . ._

_. . . against the foot of the bed . . ._

_Pressed into the carpet—legs wrapped tightly around the incorrigible succubus who was draining the poor woman of her virtue from the inside out . . ._

_Regina reaching into the cooler to extract an ice cube . . ._

_. . . and rub it across the blonde's quivering lips before making a languid trail down the blonde's heated flesh . . ._

_The mayor taking that cube in her mouth and pressing it against the blonde's abused clitoris . . ._

_Climaxes being milked from her body until at last, the final darkness came . . ._

"Eh, I've got some stuff on my mind," she offered up vaguely. What was she supposed to say? _Regina and I have been screwing for four and a half months; I love her; she might not feel the same; and I'm pretty sure she knows that she made me her bitch. Where would you like to start? _"I've got some personal stuff to sort out and I'm pretty sure things could get complicated." _What if she wants to end it after I tell her?_ Emma lifted her gaze to meet David's and smiled weakly. Sure, she was standing nearly shoulder to shoulder with her friend, but she was nowhere to be found and they both knew it. Yet, only she knew her brain's true location: she was at 108 Mifflin St. standing at Regina's door with a bouquet of flowers, just because. In the mental movie trailer that danced through her thoughts, she was declaring her love for the impenetrable mayor and carrying her up the stairs to worship the brunette's body until every inch of the mayor was marked for the world to see: **PROPERTY OF EMMA SWAN.**

"Anything I can do," he asked sincerely.

Her harsh laughter escaped before she could trap it between her thin lips. _Find me a cure for my bad case of Regina?_ _It stings and it itches. _"No, but thanks, David."

Emma was grateful that her friend simply nodded. David was never one to pry and for that she was truly thankful. In that regard, he and Mary Margaret were polar opposites. Mary Margaret would have poked and prodded and needled the blonde for more information until Emma either caved or stormed off in order to keep her private turmoil a secret from the annoyingly inquisitive brunette.

After the pair said their goodbyes and went to their separate cars, Emma finally gave up the fight and called the thief who now had her heart. Regina was not a fan of text messaging. At first Emma assumed it was because Regina was one of those people who thought that such communications impaired people's abilities to carry on normal conversations. But after being in her presence on numerous occasions and seeing the brunette text back and forth with Henry, the blonde suspected that Regina simply enjoyed torturing the sheriff and hearing how her voice affected the swooning blonde. _You're so screwed, Swan._

"Hello, Emma."

_Damn. I love you. _"H-hey, Regina," she sagged against her car and smiled foolishly into the phone.

"I take it that you and Deputy Nolan are done for the day?"

"Yeah, we called it quits."

"Mm. Did you win, Emma?"

_No, you did and you weren't even here. Hell, you're winning right now. _"You could say that, I hit more targets than he did." Great, now she was a teenager bragging to impress a girl.

"Would you like to come meet me? I do enjoy feeding a winner." The silky voice floated to Emma. Regina's tone reached through the phone and caressed the blonde's nipples causing her areolas to constrict into an almost painful peak.

"Where is Henry," she asked, unable to hide the desire in her voice. The kids only had one week of school left and Emma couldn't see Regina letting Henry spend the Sunday afternoon before his last week of eighth grade anywhere other than at home. But . . . he if wasn't there, if there was a chance that he wasn't home, Emma would push her car on bricks if she had to just to inhale the brunette's natural scent.

The brunette's voice returned to its normal pitch as she cloaked her response in a faux innocence that caused Emma's irritation to stir. "Why, he's here at home, Emma? I simply thought we could all have a nice afternoon together. Henry and I are going for ice cream. I thought you'd like to join us. My treat." She sighed pleasantly into the phone. "Did you have something else in mind, sheriff?" The mayor's knowing laughter was cut short by something Henry was saying in the background.

_Biiitch._

"You can meet us at Granny's in an hour; Henry and I have a few errands to run."

_I'd like to run my tongue—_

"Emma?"

The blonde cleared her throat before answering. "Uh yeah, sure thing, Regina."

The sheriff slipped behind the wheel of her car and finally drove out of the woods. Emma knew she had to tell her, she knew that she _needed _to tell her. Regina would be the death of her and they would only be able to put one word on her cheap tombstone: TIMBER.

**Three Days Later:**

Regina Mills sat across from her new friend and smiled warmly. It really was nice to have someone she could talk to with interests and ambitions so similar to her own. Mr. Hood returned the smile as he retrieved his wallet to in order to show the attentive brunette pictures of his five year old son, Roland. Regina reached out to examine the photo and her smile deepened as she thought back to when Henry was that age. Now, well now, her little boy was growing and starting high school. The brunette did her best to clear the lump from her throat as she handed the father back his picture.

"I'm really grateful for what you're doing, Regina. I just have no idea where to start."

"I'm more than happy to help you, Robin. I have to admit, my reasons are a little selfish. I haven't worked on a campaign in ages."

"Really?"

"No one ever runs against me," she offered with an arrogant shrug.

"I'd feel sorry for anyone who did," he replied smoothly.

"As you should," the mayor retorted playfully with an arched brow. Their laughter over the past four days had become a natural and expected occurrence.

"So, have you made any plans for Henry for his last summer before high school? Killian runs a great summer camp."

"Oh," she scoffed. "Please don't remind me. When Henry was two and smearing peanut butter on my walls I swear I wished I had a magic wand that would turn him into a twenty-one year old."

Robin laughed and reached out to pat her hand in support. "And now?"

"Well now," she sighed. " . . . I think peanut butter adds a rather nice touch to the décor."

He nodded in understanding and leaned forward conspiratorially toward the mayor. "Tell you what, if the nostalgia becomes too much, I'll be more than happy to let you have Roland for a week so you can relive the glory days. If you don't mind brushing the teeth of a devout bug-eater, he's all yours."

And again an infectious laughter was birthed as the mayor cast her horrified gaze to her breakfast companion. The patrons of the diner watched the show as though they were witnessing history in the making. The mayor was laughing . . . and touching hands with a very nice looking man in a tailored suit. Was he the reason THE Regina Mills was in a noticeably pleasant mood? The scattered diners absorbed the scene playing out before them. Some gawked in amazement, while others peered at their respective friends and families with a superior look of insight.

"I _told_ you she was getting laid," someone whispered—thankfully out of the earshot of the mayor.

Ruby, impatient for a closer look at what appeared to be an intimate scene, made her way to the attractive couple's table with a fresh pot of coffee.

"Get you guys a refill," she asked as she smiled back and forth at the pair.

"No thank you, Deputy Lucas." The mayor replied pleasantly enough.

"That's quite alright," he responded, waving her away gently.

_How the hell had she missed that accent?_ If the mayor hadn't already staked her claim to Mr. 'Tea and Crumpets,' Ruby would imagine that there would have been women lined up in Storybrooke who would sell their souls to sit on his face and put something American and wet in his posh and proper mouth.

She watched as the pair split the tab—because of course Regina insisted—and made their way out of the diner. Even then, they lingered outside, giving their inside audience a silent but perfect view of two very attractive people who seemingly could not bring themselves to part ways.

" . . . Just think about it," Robin said warmly. "I know it will be hard not seeing Henry for six weeks, but I think he would love it. Besides, it's the least we can do."

"I've never been away from him that long."

"Trust me, I understand. The first time Roland had a sleepover, Killian and I were inconsolable."

"I have seen pictures of your Killian, Robin. Somehow I have a hard time believing he would risk crying," she shot in mock cynicism.

"You mean because of his eyeliner? It's waterproof, Regina."

"Of course it is," she threw her hands up as they laughed together. "Tell you what, come by my office tomorrow after lunch and we'll talk a little more about your campaign."

"Great. I could bring some of Killian's brochures if you'd like. It has all the details for the summer camp."

"Please do."

They parted ways and Regina headed to her office.

**The Next Day:**

Emma sat in her booth at Granny's and nursed her milkshake, thinking that if she concentrated hard enough it would transform into a scotch. She cursed herself for being so scared and being so weak. The week was nearly over. Tomorrow would be Henry's last day of school before summer break. After that, she and Regina were guaranteed to have even less time together. _You're a coward, Emma Swan. _Emma thought back to the _six _times she'd seen the brunette in the last four days. Each time, she let the words die in her mouth and slither back down her throat. The three little words seemed to have a mind of their own and they refused to be rushed into the sunlight by an eager sheriff with a nervous twitch.

"Why didn't you tell me about Regina?!"

Emma shrieked at the sound of the raised voice that was suddenly bursting the bubble of her private thoughts. She stared blankly at the woman standing over her. The younger brunette stood there with one hand on her hip and glared down at the sheriff. She sat up straighter in her seat as her interrogator's words finally hit her. _Shit! What about Regina?_ The women were nothing if not careful. The rules they put in place were strictly adhered to and they never had an outting without Henry in tow. _Did she catch me looking at Regina?_ Every weekend Emma and Regina would bring Henry to Granny's for their usual Saturday morning breakfast. Had the blonde forgotten herself last Saturday and made eyes at the mayor? Granted, it was becoming harder and harder for Emma to hide her feelings from Regina, but surely she wasn't so transparent that the entire town could see how she felt.

The next day, after . . . those events, when Emma finally came down the stairs for lunch, she couldn't help but fawn over the brunette. She tried—fought like hell—to act normal. But Regina looked so different now. She was this precious metal and Emma was a hopeless lovesick idiot who just wanted to be in the same room with her. She'd washed the dishes and tried not to blush as Henry sat at the island after they'd had their meals and told her all about his night and morning. From the corner of her eye she could see Regina sitting across from their son on the island but she knew the brunette was having the same memory.

She'd left sometime that evening but not before helping Henry beat the level on his game and checking with Regina in the study . . . just to see if she needed anything. _That was normal, right?_ Emma remembered the mayor looking up over her glasses with an expression of pure amusement.

_"_ _No, I think we'll manage, Ms. Swan. You had a long night. Perhaps you should take the rest of the weekend and get some rest, dear."_

Was this really what being in love reduced people to? Emma realized that she was calling the mayor after work on days that they didn't see each other—just to hear her voice. She would call if she was at the store, just to see if Regina or Henry needed anything while she was out. Each time, the mirth in the mayor's voice was thick and present. She was obviously enjoying the dam that seemed to have burst inside of Emma. Yet through it all, Regina never questioned the behavior and never commented on Emma's open and pining stares. In fact, if the brunette was bothered by the change, she never let on. _When does Regina ever show her hand?_ If Regina did know, why hadn't she said anything? Emma didn't know which was worse: the possibility that Regina could see the love in her eyes and chose to ignore it; or, the possibility that Regina truly had no idea what she'd done to the blonde and Emma would be forced to grow a pair and actually look the brunette in the eyes and give voice to those dreaded words. _Ha, so maybe it's written over your whole damn face,_ she chastised herself darkly.

Still, never one to contribute to a conversation without the proper context, Emma knew it was best to get clarity before risking putting her foot in her mouth.

"What are you talking about it," she countered slowly, snapping back to reality as the brunette slid into the booth and sat across from Emma.

"Oh come on, don't give me that," Mary Margaret persisted, unconvinced by Emma's apparent confusion. "I had to hear it from Ruby that _Regina _is seeing some fancy guy from out of town?"

_Whew!_

"Mary Margaret," Emma laughed dismissively, "you don't know what you're talking about."

"Emma," the pixie-haired brunette shrieked in response. "I'm telling you, the mayor is seeing someone and I think it's that Mr. Hood."

Mary Margaret sat back in her seat and folded her hands over her stomach, satisfied that she'd solved Storybrooke's latest and greatest mystery. For the past four days Regina had been spotted in various parts of town doing the unthinkable: smiling—genuinely smiling with some guy from another town. Rumor had it, that the notorious 'get the hell out of my way' Mayor Mills was greeting residents as she walked past them, offering her apologies if she bumped into someone, and—perhaps the scariest of all—she was actually becoming rather pleasant company. And it was all being attributed to some swinging dick wearing a jacket and a tie.

"Mary Margaret, there is no way that Regina is dating some stiff suit from . . . where ever the hell he's from. Okay, _believe_ me on this."

"He's not just a stiff suit—he's running for mayor of Bar Harbor, Emma. I think they're a perfect fit." The brunette gushed and her pale eyes shimmered with excitement as the romantic imagery played out in her mind. "Don't you see: Bay Harbor is the closest town to Storybrooke; they could see each other all the time; and they will both be mayors of small towns. Seriously Emma, it's like Regina found a male version of herself." The young brunette's voice elevated as she continued to voice her assessment. Honestly, how could Emma not see how perfect Regina and Mr. Hood could be for each other?

The sheriff's smile widened as she listened to her friend's ranting. Regina would kill her—literally drag her body down the street and hang her from the clock tower if the blonde were to use this moment to burst the school teacher's bubble and tell her the truth—the real truth, that she and the mayor were secret lovers. Instead, Emma was forced to bite her tongue and laugh inwardly at her own devious anecdotes regarding why Mayor Mills was all of a sudden a more agreeable and congenial human being.

"Stop jumping to conclusions, Mary Margaret."

"Well, if I am, I don't have to jump very far. Ruby says they've had breakfast together at Granny's everyday for the past three days."

The blonde's smile faltered. "What are you talking about?"

"You didn't know? Oh, Emma," the brunette sighed happily. "Ruby said she never thought she'd see the day where she would see the _mayor _with someone and think 'what a cute couple'."

Emma gritted her teeth and clinched her jaw as she took in the new information. She did her level best not to let her friend see her lips begin to twitch. Her pleasant disposition melted into one of barely veiled disgust. She needed answers but she needed to be careful with what she said and how she asked the questions. _Why didn't Regina tell me about these . . . breakfasts?_ The word bounced in her brain like a curse word as her thoughts pulled her deeper into the void. She and the mayor saw each other nearly every damn day—sometimes twice a day if she was scheduled to eat with her and Henry. It would have taken Regina all of ten seconds to tell Emma she would be meeting with this new Robin person and ask her how she felt about it. If Regina met this guy a few days ago, then she had more than enough time to tell Emma. _You've had just as long to tell her you love her, coward. _The blonde leaned her head against the back of the booth and cursed her inner voice. _I thought I had more time_, she answered herself in a panicked response. Emma tried not to focus on the one thought that was determined to burrow itself in her brain. She did her best to slap away the voices that sang into her ear telling her that Regina would only see her as some private concubine who was not good enough for a legitimate and public relationship. She fought the whispers that told her that Regina was willing to go on dates with well-dressed strangers but couldn't be seen alone with the sheriff. Sure, they had both agreed that their sexual relationship would remain between the two of them, but neither had ever discussed dating or what would happen if the other person met someone.

Emma forced her stomach to keep its grip on the milkshake that threatened to make its glorious return. She couldn't lose Regina. Not _now. _Not since she'd finally accepted that Regina—that soul sucking temptress—was the love of her life. She had to get the woman alone. She needed to be with the woman for more than a few stolen and dark moments so that she could get the brunette to truly understand how Emma ached for her. The mere thought of Regina walking around town laughing and sharing her affections with this man brought about such a fierce urge of possessiveness that Emma barely registered how tightly she was gripping her empty cup. The glass around her heart shattered and the shards carved their way down to the pit of her stomach as she fought off another wave of acidic nausea. She just couldn't lose Regina. She wouldn't.

_So, woman up and do something. _As Emma listened to Margaret, the blonde pushed aside all the raging thoughts and voices that sparred within her and held on to the one thought that gave her hope: The next time she and Regina were in the same room, Emma would use everything she had in her to make Regina understand how she felt. Even if the brunette mocked her, even if she _did_ laugh in her face, Emma could take solace in the fact that she didn't go down without a fight. _Screw this Robin asshole. _It was _Emma _who was supposed to keep that smile on the mayor's face. It was _Emma _who was supposed to hold hands with the brunette and hold her door open for her. And it damn sure was Emma and _only _Emma who was supposed travel to the darkest parts of the mayor's body and return with a bounty of copious cries and salty nectar.

Waiting for Henry to have some random sleepover in order for her and Regina to share a night together was no longer an option. No, they belonged in each other's bed _every_ night.

The idea hit her before she could rein it in. The sheriff glanced at the clock on the wall before finally interrupting Mary Margaret's doe-eyed rant. If she hurried, she could catch Henry at school and offer him a ride. The blonde salivated at the prospect of waiting for Regina in her bedroom. Yes, it was a gamble; and yes it was against the rules—no sex with Henry in the house. But the thought, the mere _idea_ that someone else dared to touch what was already hers sent Emma into a jealous haze. She would burn away every memory that Regina and that fucking man had created together. She would erase his memory one stroke at a time until Regina couldn't even remember what the son of bitch looked like.

The sheriff slapped the money for her shake on the table and jetted out of the diner. Since Regina was such an advocate for agreements and terms, Emma was going to make sure that Regina understood that Emma had terms of her own. This time around, it would be Regina who never forgot this night or to whom she belonged.

**Across Town:**

_"_ _Gina, please." Emma had gripped one of the bars of the headboard so tightly Regina thought she would pull it from the frame._

The mayor shook her head and tried to focus on the loose forms on her desk. It was becoming a bit ridiculous how obsessive she was coming over the sheriff. Nearly three weeks later and she still could not get over how completely Emma had given herself to her. Her center tightened at the memory of Emma's red face pleading with hers for mercy, but still opening herself up and taking more. She felt her clitoris harden and instantly wished she could see the woman who was becoming her drug.

The blonde had taken every ounce of her anger, every bit of the primitive lust cocktail that Regina had created. _Well, she did try crawl away a few times_, the mayor smirked darkly to herself. Regina could not recall ever wanting to do the things she did to Emma to anyone else ever in her entire life. Terrorize them? Of course, it was her gift. Patronize them? Goes without saying. But to _invade_ someone and to strip away every barrier until there was nothing left but a face to face encounter with that person's soul—_that _was something Regina never craved until she met Emma Swan.

It had been so unexpected, to see the younger woman so raw and open. Regina wanted Emma to understand that, even though no one knew about them, the blonde was hers and that Regina would not tolerate the sheriff not taking her seriously when she issued a threat. The very idea that Emma, her golden-haired idiot, thought that she could ignore their agreement without repercussions was infuriating. Regina had devised her comeuppance against Emma as a way to teach the younger woman a lesson and as a cathartic release for the bottled up lust and rage that Regina felt for her bed partner. She hadn't counted on the vulnerability that Emma showed her. But whether or not she'd anticipated it, the aftermath of their legendary night together brought forth evidence of what Regina had already begun to suspect: Emma was in love with her. She saw it in those hypnotizing green eyes the next day when Emma made her way down the stairs to join the rest of the house for lunch. The doting and wide-eyed stares . . . the shy smiles . . . the soft-spoken tones . . . Regina had inadvertently opened a door and now she was staring directly at the prize on the other side: Emma Swan's heart.

Before that night, and even down to the very minute before the sheriff arrived at her home, Regina rebuffed the possibility that her feelings for the blonde were evolving. The mayor, at least in her opinion, was doing a fine job of keeping those feelings at bay. They loitered deep enough in her web of emotions to keep her alert, but never stampeded to the forefront with enough power to distract her. Until that night. Regina's plan returned to her tenfold and while she had certainly reaped the bounty of her rigorous plunder, the mayor found that she had walked away with a disturbing revelation that she could no longer ignore: She . . . was in love with Emma. Swan. She wanted to . . ._ heaven help me_ . . . hold hands with the woman and sit with their arms wrapped around each other as they watched the waves of the ocean from a bench at the pier. She wanted to spoil that childishly goofy woman and stroke her hair as she slept in her arms. The mayor wanted to use her mouth as an alarm clock and press her tongue inside the sheriff every morning and send the woman to work with a sly and relaxed smile on her face.

_You love her. _There was an element of defeat to her thoughts. The denial she wore as a security blanket was being stripped as each day waxed on. And if these past weeks were any indication, the mayor reasoned, Emma's resolve had all but dissipated as well. While Regina certainly prided herself on being able to read people, the mayor was not sure she could accredit her assessment of Emma's feelings purely on her ability to discern. No, the poor blonde was really doing a piss poor job of hiding her affections: the daily calls, checking to see if either she or Henry needed anything.

_She loves you._ The brunette did her best to make peace with both revelations as the days rolled by. The initial panic gave way to curiosity. What _would _a relationship with Emma look like? The curiosity soon gave way to expectancy. Certainly Emma hadn't figured out that Regina knew how the blonde felt about her; so, when exactly was Ms. Swan planning to make her move? _You could just tell her._

"You could just shut the hell up," she mumbled aloud in the empty office.

If there were going to be any declarations of love, Regina Mills was _not _going to be the first one to let those words fly. She couldn't allow herself to make those vulnerable first steps, no matter how clearly she perceived Emma's actions as that of a woman in love and absolutely smitten. While the sheriff's behavior served as the welcomed fuel that Regina needed to dwell on her own feelings for the blonde with a certain amount of ease, the mayor found that she still could not take the chance of being wrong. She couldn't let those words leave her mouth and have a scared and unprepared Emma leave her high and dry. She had to get the younger woman to say it first. Then, then she could breathe in the scent of that declaration, let it fill her lungs, and expel a tremendous carbon copy of those same sentiments to the woman who'd wormed her way into the mayor's bloodstream. _Damnit, Emma._

The mayor gave up on her reports and turned her attention to the Bar Harbor summer camp brochures Robin left with her earlier that day. If Henry went to summer camp, Emma and Regina could have more than a few fleeting moments. They could lounge in each other's arms all day if they wanted to—not that Regina was a lounger.

Regina could feed the blonde breakfast in bed and once the blonde was full, the mayor could feast from the sheriff in order to sate her own pallet before her morning coffee. They could writhe in each other's arms and fight through the weeds of their wild passion together. The two women could collapse together and let the sweat from their bodies seal them as living art on the canvas of Regina's California king. Regina's nightly routine would be to fall asleep with her fingers nestled between the blonde's legs with the warmth engulfing her and reminding her always that Emma was hers. She could wake in the middle of the night and rouse her beauty with drowsy strokes until they were both alert and Regina rocked them back to sleep with the skill of her hand.

_You could have that now, if you tell her._

"Die slow," she hissed to her inner self. Yes, she could have all that—just so long as Emma said the words first.

Her mind drifted to Robin and Killian. She had to admit, she envied them. She'd only known the hopeful politician for a little under a week but already they'd become fast friends—it was so unlike her. Regina Mills didn't do friendships. But there she was, making friends and smiling around town—being _nice _to people. Being with Emma was turning her soft. She found herself on more than one occasion listening to Robin tell stories of he and Killian and mentally substituting them with her and Emma. It wasn't the two men who'd gotten away for a romantic evening, it was now she and Emma and the imagery was wondrous.

_You could have that now, if you tell her._

Regina sighed as she grabbed the brochures and stuffed them into her purse. She would ask Emma her thoughts on Henry going away to summer camp and they would run the idea by Henry. In the meantime, Regina's mind was working to conjure a plan. She had to figure out a way to be truly alone with Emma and get the blonde to tell her how she felt. If their night together taught her anything at all, it was that a vulnerable and open Emma would be more likely to spill the contents of her heart and set Regina free from her limbo of uncertainty. _Ha, indeed. You could always make her tell you_, she joked deviously to herself . . .

_Could _she? Could she really make love to Emma and leave the blonde so raw and emotional that her vocabulary would be reduced to nothing but terms of endearments and long-overdue confessions? Regina's eyes darkened with lust and she salivated at the possibilities. She tried her best to ignore the throbbing between her legs but her walls clenched harder, causing the force of the contractions to pull at the muscles in her lower abdomen. She bit into her bottom lip and closed her eyes as her hungry body vibrated with a need that was reserved especially for Emma. She needed to possess her—to hear her say those words and put the brunette out of her misery.

The moisture between her legs thickened as she thought of how she would sit in the Victorian wing-backed chair in her bedroom with Emma straddling her. She would slip her hand between them and connect their bodies at the most heated part of Emma's body. She would let that heat wash over her and wrap her arm around the blonde's waist to hold their position. She would march them forward into battle, armed with only their lust and love for one another and slay the quivering blonde's resistance with a torrent of orgasms until she clawed the fabric of the antique chair and cried out her truth.

The joke became a fantasy but the fantasy was rapidly forming into the most delicious plan. Regina would wait, she was a patient soul; and as she walked out of her office for the day, the mayor smiled as the gavel of her mind resounded in judgment and signaled a decree from the heavens: If Emma didn't soon tell Regina how she felt, the next time they were alone—_really_ alone—Regina would fuck it out of her.

The brunette reveled in the feel of her thighs rubbing together as she headed to her car. Her panties were practically _saturated _just from the mere thought of the endless possibilities. Once again, the mayor was setting a strategy in motion.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again folks, I give you the last chapter of my very first fanfic. As always, feel free to tell me what you think. Much love.

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

"Let it go," the low voice demanded, prying her hand away from the headboard and pinning her wrist to the mattress.

She dropped her head and pressed her face into the pillowcase. The scream burned its way through her marrow and scorched her vocal cords until she was forced to release the fire of her cry into the linen. She whimpered desperately into the pillow, breathing in the fabric of her silk prison. Teeth nipped the back of her slick neck—her captor grunting with a primal satisfaction at the taste of her flesh and sweat.

She strained against the thrusting form, fighting to ignore the sensation of the other woman's bare chest crushed against her back and the arm wedged between them. Strong hips lurched forward, driving the arm forward and those aggressive fingers deeper until a thumb was lodged between her cheeks.

She wouldn't beg, she _couldn't_—it wasn't in her nature. She'd never uttered a single plea in her life, even now, as the athletic woman between her legs stretched her ridged walls and worked her body at an aggressive pace with the unwavering consistency of a metronome—she wouldn't beg. Her pride and her body dueled for the dominant position in her all but useless brain. Her ego told her that she couldn't let this woman reduce her to this. She couldn't dissolve into a pile of ashes from these heated strokes and have the residue of her being inhaled by the blonde—leaving nothing but heels and wet sheets behind. She slid her free arm behind her back and between their slippery bodies to push as best she could against the woman's taunt lower abdomen. The pale skinned officer pressed her weight into the mayor's body, trapping the defiant arm. The younger woman's grip tightened on Regina's other arm as the sheriff rocked their bodies with a level of command the mayor had never experienced.

The shudders evolved with each stroke, until the brunette stiffened and sobbed from the pull her orgasm. Even as her limbs locked, the hand persisted. She wouldn't . . . she wouldn't beg.

She lifted her head from the pillow and inhaled deeply to fill her burning lungs. Greedy lips descended on her quivering mouth the moment she turned her head. They sucked at her bottom lip before pushing a tongue between her teeth and coaxing hers down from the roof of her mouth. She fought the dizziness that threatened to make its debut. She squeezed against the deft digits—foolishly hoping to push them out and end the delicious torment. Somewhere—so high above the clouds that its exact location was known only to the angels—was Regina's sanity. Emma had stolen her reasoning, her logic . . . her will and carried it to the peak of the mountain where oxygen was a precious and rare commodity. The blonde poured the libation that was Regina, into a chalice made from gold and drank eagerly until there was nothing left but a tremulous shell whose traitorous body seemed to produce orgasms on demand.

As soon as the kiss was broken her wails blossomed and echoed throughout the room. Regina forgot herself in that moment. She forgot so many things as that strong body bent the remnant of her will, plucked it away, and cast it aside. She forgot to put her face back in that blasted pillow; she forgot that tonight was no ordinary night and that the blonde grinding into her—Emma—her wide-eyed idiot, was no longer present. In her place was a golden-haired creature possessed and driven by the urge to shut out the outside world until there was only the two of them. She forgot that she was normally not this vocal or amorous with her cries; but each time, the blonde reached in and retrieved the sounds as if to prove the exact opposite. Emma thrust into her until she couldn't remember anything about their previous lovemaking. Perhaps she had been a screamer. The hands working her body seemed to alter the past and Regina would be hard pressed to recall any event at that moment with any degree of accuracy.

The headboard slammed against the wall, chipping away at more of the paint with each sickening thud—each clap a round of applause for the superlative performance. Regina screwed her eyes shut and attempted to still herself against the power of the electricity that was surging up her spine. As the sparks crackled and furrowed deeper into her womb, the frantic woman forgot that she was not one to beg. Her desperation called out to her. It implored her to end the tremendous plundering or else be left hallow and cast aside by the wind.

"E-e-emma! _PLEASE! Alright! Alright!_"

"No, it's too late, Regina," she grunted through gritted teeth. The blonde waited until the brunette went limp before extracting herself and untangling their limbs. She grabbed the older woman and flipped her onto her back before positioning herself back between her smooth thighs. Her hand returned to its rightful place between their bodies and re-entered the throbbing center that she called home. The heat pulsed around her fingers and pulled Emma in deeper. It fought her, yet invited her in for more—powerless to deny her access to the secrets and wonders of the enigma that was Regina Mills.

Luminous green met black marble. Nothing else existed for either of them. The whirlpool of those sea green eyes filled the abyss of her onyx orbs, forcing her to maintain their steady gaze. Regina was drowning and Emma refused to throw her a raft. Instead, she'd turned the brunette over so that she could stare into her eyes as she watched the mayor take her final breath. She was being pulled into the deepest part of the ocean and when she emerged—heaven help—when she emerged from the depths of those observant eyes and that seeking hand, she would no longer be Regina Mills. She would be a slave to Emma Swan.

"P-please. H-henry, he'll hear us," she offered as an urgent plea.

"He'll hear _you, _Regina," Emma mumbled against Regina's lips as she started her pace again. "So you might really wanna to be quiet for this next part."

_Next part_?

As if hearing her thoughts and deciding it best to put the mayor out of her misery, "I found your strap-on, Regina." She whispered the words hotly against the brunette's ear and chuckled darkly before biting the mayor's earlobe.

Regina's eyes widened at the new information. She'd placed those items at the back of her closet behind her mountain of shoe boxes. How had Emma even thought to _look_? As Emma sucked yet another of Regina's moans between her eager lips, the mayor held on to the only coherent thought she had left: _She's trying to kill me . . ._

**Four hours earlier:**

They made it to the mansion with an hour to spare. Regina would assume that Henry had simply walked home alone as he had any other day. Once Emma arrived at the school, she'd decided that leaving her car in the parking lot would be best. Henry was all too happy to take the stroll with his birth mother and fill her in on his day.

"What do you want to eat, kid," she asked as they headed toward the kitchen.

"It's only four-fifteen," Henry laughed. "We can't eat without mom, she'll kill you."

Emma gaped in mocked offense. "Why won't she kill you, too?"

"Because I'm her son and I'm adorable."

"You're a grown man with a height problem. Regina just can't see it yet," she retorted. "Besides, _we're _not eating without her. You're eating without us."

"Why," he frowned, sounding a bit hurt.

"I need to talk to your mom," she answered seriously.

He hesitated before he asked. "You guys aren't fighting again, are you?"

"No," she smiled to put him at ease. "It's not like that."

"Good," Henry nodded, clearly pleased that his moms were still getting along.

Henry stared at his blonde mother and waited for her to continue. "And, why can't you talk to her after we eat? Tomorrow's Saturday, it's not like you guys have somewhere to be—unless you count our breakfast at Granny's."

She sighed and rolled her eyes playfully as she let her head fall back. "One: she doesn't know I'm here; and two: it can't wait."

There were containers of leftover meals filling the shelves of the refrigerator. Without taking the time to see what each contained, Emma put a few on the counter and gave Henry his pick.

"I can feed myself, you know. I'll be thirteen in three months."

"Well, you're still twelve now and if I let you mess up this kitchen, your mom really will kill me."

"I'm starting high school," he grumbled.

"Yeah, kid. That's three months away too. So pick a meal, any meal," she flashed a game show smile and waved her hand over the Tupperware.

After Emma heated up the meal of his choice and returned the kitchen to its original splendor, she ushered Henry out of the kitchen.

"When she gets here, tell her you ate already—DON'T tell her I'm here."

"Where will you be," he asked, the confusion and curiosity returning to claim his features in full force.

_He's starting to sound like Mary Margaret. _"Around, kid. I'll be around."

Henry shrugged, realizing he would get no further answers and headed for the den.

Emma let out a sigh of relief as she headed up the stairs and let herself into the master bedroom. She and Regina were going to christen the room as an official couple until every corner of the suite held the lingering aroma of their co-mingled scents. She took her time walking around the room and taking in the area that she soon hoped would be her second home. She pictured seeing her boots next to Regina's heels and her jeans thrown across the arm of the chair or at the foot of the bed.

The sheriff did her best to swallow her nerves when she glanced at the clock across the room. At the time, opting to walk Henry home from school and waiting in the mayor's room seemed like a good idea. The mayor would breeze into the room and not realize that Emma was sitting in the chair that was positioned diagonally in the corner of the right wall. She'd wait for the mayor to turn and notice her presence and then kiss the protests straight from the woman's red lips.

It sounded grand, but Emma knew there was a real possibility that Regina would light the hopeful blonde on fire for breaking their routine. Regina was a stickler for schedules and structure and they'd long established their evening traditions: Tuesdays thru Thursdays were their family nights and every other Friday. This was not one of their scheduled Fridays so Regina would not be expecting Emma. The blonde considered making herself a drink to calm herself, but decided against it. She needed her full faculties and motor skills if she was going to approach Regina. Emma told herself that she and Regina belonged together. She repeated the slogan until saying it was as natural as saying hello.

By the time the bedroom door flung open forty-minutes later, Emma was ready and her jitters had transformed into tiny soldiers of determination.

Regina swept into the room with her phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder. Emma watched the sway of her hips and felt her stomach tighten. Her fingers tingled at the mere thought of touching the woman who had just sashayed into the room. Just as Emma thought she would make her presence known, the sound of laughter wrapped around _his _name kept her silent and glued to her seat.

"Robin," Regina chuckled into the cellphone. "He's practically a man now. I can't even make dinner for him anymore. He's already eaten."

Emma dug her nails into the arms of the chair until her knuckles ached. She rose to her feet slowly and approached the woman who was too distracted to sense that she was not alone. The mayor's second round of laughter was cut short by the last voice she'd expected to hear in person.

"Get off the phone," came the growl from behind her.

The brunette yelped from the sudden noise and dropped her handbag. She whipped around with wide startled eyes and gazed into the face of a very present and very angry Emma Swan.

"Get. Off. The. Phone." Emma reached for Regina's phone but the mayor stepped away.

"R-Robin, how about we have lunch on Sunday and go over it then? . . . Great, I'm looking forward to it."

The mayor did her best to hide the tremor in her voice as she disconnected the call. Regina wasn't sure if she was more startled or angry. The dueling emotions whirled in her mind as she prepared to lash out at Emma.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The mayor's eyes were torches of fury that should have set the blonde's scalp on fire.

Emma said nothing. She simply took another step toward her and reached for the phone again.

Regina, never being one to cower, saw the ire and . . . something else, but scoffed. "What are you doing here, Emma?" The brunette's annoyed tone grated against Emma's skin. The mayor arched a brow of derision at the stony blonde. She didn't know the cause, but Regina could recognize a pissing contest from a mile away.

Emma took another step and still Regina held her ground. In this, they were remarkably different. Regina was not one to be intimidated. She met the green eyes, silently demanding an explanation and yet rising to the challenge of the defiance that she found in those pebbles of sea green.

"I asked what the _hell _you're doing here, Swan?"

Emma pulled the phone from Regina's hand as she stepped into Regina's personal space. She threw it behind her and smiled when she heard it bounce on the carpet. Emma stared into the onyx eyes—the eyes of Storm Regina—and shrugged.

This was not how she wanted it to go. The blonde had imagined professing her love for Regina; she imagined that she would swallow all of her fears, insecurities and pride and tell the brunette once and for all how she felt. Emma had thought that they would be able to make love like a normal couple and share the mayor's bed in both sleep and passion.

But now, after listening to the woman she loved laugh and coo over some asshole, all feelings of fear and inferiority gave way to jealousy and a primitive need—a need to brand Regina. The strength of the foreign sensations shocked the sheriff. Yes, she thought of Regina as hers. Yes, she wanted to love and cherish the woman. Yes, erasing the memory of Mr. Perfect had been part of her plan—but what she felt now was on a level akin to savagery. While power and obedience may have been the mayor's motivation, Emma discovered right then and there that exclusivity was hers. She did not like to share—and she _wouldn't_ share. She had to get the mayor to understand that before she could utter those three little words.

Completely ignoring Regina's question, Emma squared her jaw and decreed, "I don't want you talking to him anymore, Regina." The finality of her tone surprised them both.

"Who," the mayor asked, genuinely confused.

Emma gripped the mayor's hips and sealed their pelvises together. "You know who," she spat. "Robin. I don't like it," she snarled.

"_Excuse me_," Regina leaned back with an arched brow and peered at Emma as though she were a stranger with two heads.

"You heard me, Regina."

Then it hit her. The brunette saw it with such clarity that she nearly lost her balance. Emma was _jealous_. It didn't make any sense; how in the world could Emma feel threatened by a married gay man? _Unless she doesn't know he's gay._

If theirs was a normal relationship—if the two were normal human beings—Emma would have simply asked Regina about her relationship with Robin; and Regina would have simply told her that she and Robin were friends. But they were not normal; Emma was Emma; and well, Regina was—in all her stubborn glory—Regina.

"No, I don't think I did, _Ms. Swan._"

Regina pulled away from Emma and the blonde stood back with her arms folded across her chest and her face set in unmovable stone. A part of Regina wanted to walk back into the blonde's arms and set the flaxen-haired woman at ease. She wanted to whisper to Emma how much she loved her and how—despite all odds—Emma was the best part of her and no one could ever take her place . . . but she had her pride and now she had her anger. She could not set this precedent. Love or no love, Regina Mills would _not_ be dictated to. She would not allow her feelings and emotions for the blonde to cause her to roll over simply because the two shared a bed and a bond. She would not lose herself and her identity all for the sake of another person. She would not give Emma that power over her. She would not be bossed around and told what to do, especially not by Emma Swan. What part of that was so hard for the sheriff to understand? So no, she wouldn't correct the blonde and ease her troubled mind and raging suspicions. _She can think what she wants._

Disgusted, Regina turned her back to Emma, preparing to enter the master bathroom . . . until she heard the zipper. The brunette halted mid stride and pivoted on her heels.

She watched as Emma finished slowly unzipping her leather jacket. The blonde tossed it onto the arm of the wing-backed chair. Regina took in the view of the woman before her; white tank, tight jeans, a belt, and of course her favorite boots.

Emma took her time unbuckling her belt—never breaking eye contact as she pulled it from its loops and let it fall to the floor. Regina swallowed as her mouth went dry.

The sheriff's features hardened all the more as she issued yet another veiled threat. "I'm serious, Regina."

Regina's indignation faltered when she saw Emma extract the ends of her tank from her jeans and pull the shirt over her head. The shirt soon joined the belt. The blonde kicked off her boots and started unbuttoning her jeans. Regina forced herself out of her trance and found her voice.

"Emma." There was a tremble in her vocal cords that had absolutely nothing to do with being startled or angry. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Emma, I don't know what you think you're doing. But this does _not _happen with Henry in the house."

Her pants were now around her ankles. She stepped out of them and walked toward Regina.

_No, this is not how this goes. _The brunette's thoughts raced against each other and crashed into walls of her mind. There was no mistaking the look in Emma's eyes or her intentions. Regina knew that look, hell she invented it. But until that moment, it had never occurred to the brunette that the sheriff was even capable of giving such a withering and primitive scowl. The pale features reached out to Regina and silently told her that she would submit. Regina did her best to conjure the anger and fury that she'd felt only moments before, only to come up empty. She scraped the bottom of the barrel, dug deep into her reserves and found only desire mingled with more defiance and foolish pride. Emma was ruining her plans. It was Regina who was supposed to catch the sheriff off guard—not the other way around. Ceding the upper hand was not a trait that Regina possessed and she'd be damned if she started now.

"I suggest you put your clothes back on. Unless of course you don't mind leaving in your underwear," she chided with upturned lips.

"I'm not leaving at all," Emma shrugged.

Regina didn't know what response she expected, but it hadn't been that. This was not her Emma. Her Emma never went on the offensive. No, Emma reacted to stimuli. In all the time they'd known each other, even when they were at each other's throats, Emma only lashed at when provoked. She defended herself and protected the things she considered to be hers . . .

The second revelation of the night crept into Regina's wandering thoughts. Emma was not initiating an action, she was responding to a perceived threat and staking her claim to what she believed she rightfully owned. Once the motivation became clear, Regina was not sure if she was honored or irritated. Against all internal alarm bells blaring and warning her to turn back before it was too late, she chose the latter. Just who did Emma Swan think she was?

"You can walk out, or I'll throw you out. It really is your choice."

Emma reached for her then and Regina knew it was one threat too many. "You like rules, right Regina?" Emma bit down on the mayor's neck. Regina yelped and tried to pull away. She ignored the heat that rushed down her body. "I only have one, _Madam Mayor_. You don't see him. You don't see anybody but me 'Gina." Emma distracted the mayor with her lips as she reached behind her to unzip the skin tight dress and watched as it slid to the floor.

"Emma," Regina tried again, her warning sounding weak to her own ears. But she couldn't let this happen. "Henry . . ."

That was not the reply the sheriff wanted. "I don't care."

Emma removed her own bra before reaching for the brunette again and doing the same. The two women stood in their panties and assessed each other—Regina looking at Emma as though she were seeing her for the first time.

The mayor was shoved against the closed door of the master bathroom. Emma pressed her body into Regina until their naked breasts greeted each other and their heartbeats competed for contact against their ribcages. Emma sucked the flesh of Regina's neck until the brunette whimpered. Her delicate hands pushed at the sheriff's shoulders. Emma reached for the mayor's wrists and snatched her hands away. She bent her body just low enough to draw one of the mayor's breasts into her mouth. The supple skin melted between her lips and Emma grazed her teeth at the very tip of Regina's nipples until the brunette's hips jerked away from the door. The blonde heaped the same love and attention to the other breast before sliding her hand inside of Regina's under garments. She purred into Regina's collarbone the moment her questing fingers met the volcanic flow that seeped from her lover. Emma thrust harshly into the mayor, nearly lifting her off the floor—causing one of her heels to fall off.

"Kick off the other one. Now."

Regina reluctantly obeyed. She kept her head tucked into the curve of Emma's neck and shoulder, praying that the woman's burning flesh would absorb her cries.

Emma began thrusting in earnest, wedging her fingers deeper with each powerful ram. The soundtrack of Regina's throaty cries and her back hitting the door only served to drive the sheriff further. Regina was practically on the balls of her feet—doing her best not to fall from the ride constructed by the ridiculously skilled strokes of a madwoman.

It was not enough, Emma decided.

Even after she'd heard Regina squeak out her name from the strain of holding back an orgasmic series of screams—Emma growled to herself that it was not enough. Without warning, she turned the mayor around and pressed her roughly against the door. Her breasts were flattened against the cold wood and Emma smiled at the image before her. She kicked Regina's legs apart and entered her again. Regina pressed her forehead into the door and clawed at its borders. Her hot moans burst forth from her beautifully contorted face. She was the picture of pleasure and pain as Emma hit the checkpoints within Regina's walls that the brunette was guaranteed to feel long after the night was over.

Still, it was not enough.

Emma pulled Regina away from the door and sank to her knees, letting the carpet absorb the impact of her drop. The brunette was nearly dizzy from the yearning that radiated from the blonde. The nectar descended from her core and weighed heavily in the seat of her satin underwear. Emma removed the soaked panties and caressed Regina's behind and inner thighs.

"Open your legs, Regina."

_Damn you, Emma._ As if helpless and controlled by an unforeseen entity whose mission it was in life to see Regina suffer, the mayor parted her quivering thighs.

"Shhh," Emma advised darkly before pushing her head forward and burying her tongue into her meal.

_Oh! Just tell her!_ Her mind screamed at her. The first contact of that scolding mouth was too much. Regina bit into her blood red lip and punished it for allowing a cry of ecstasy to nearly jet free into the dim room. The brunette's hands gripped the strong shoulders beneath her as the blonde feasted from Regina. She drank deeply from her as though it were her last supper and devoured every stray morsel. Emma used her firm grip on Regina's behind to pull her as close as possible—holding the older woman in place as her mouth deepened its worship. She dragged her tongue firmly between the swollen folds and pressed it up against Regina's clitoris.

The climax proved to be an impatient visitor. It knocked at the door of her cervix and burst its way through to her chest when an invitation was not extended quickly enough. Regina's high-pitched shuddering breaths fell over Emma and the sheriff basked in the victory.

Regina opened her eyes as if seeing the world for the first time. Her body tingled from head to toe and she nearly crumpled over the woman kneeling before her. Emma pulled her glistening and coated face away from the source of her happiness and glared at Regina. "Stand all the way up, Regina."

The delayed timer that was Regina's body couldn't register the command. She was light-headed and weak. Surely the mayor hadn't heard the blonde correctly.

Emma dug her nails into the flesh of Regina's behind, causing the brunette to cry out. Regina forced her knees to straighten and her drained form to stand tall. Emma hummed her approval before pushing her face forward again.

She attacked her labia and clitoris until the brunette was nearly climbing Emma's shoulders. Regina's hands were buried in her hair and one leg found its way thrown over one of her shoulders and still the blonde used her hands on Regina's backside to yank her closer. The sheriff pulled Regina's spirit from her body and sucked her soul from between her legs. The two met in a tango and swept across the dance floor of her womb until she could no longer tell her left from her right. The peaks of ecstasy and turmoil came and they refused to let her go. They passed her around as if she was nothing—as if she were little more than a trinket. They took turns raking through her abdomen before making violent and urgent retreats to the safety of the greedy summoning mouth that demanded their presence.

When she'd finally hit the floor—a lump of nothing but sweat and hot air, Emma rose from her kneeled position and carried the spent woman over to the bed. She wanted to cradle the brunette, ease her onto the mattress and nuzzle her neck and whisper tender words into her ear. But she couldn't, not yet. Not as long as the mayor refused to give her what she desired most—all of her. The fire in her refused to die down. It demanded a sacrifice and it demanded one from Regina.

Emma used her free arm to yank back the covers before roughly depositing the mayor on the bed. Her limp body bounced from the gravity of the fall but she could do little more than look at the blonde. Regina stared weakly but wide-eyed at her lover and nearly, _nearly _spilled the contents of her soul. She nearly told the blonde all she wanted to know and nearly exposed her truth to the surprisingly heartless woman who was now crawling over her useless body. _No, I. Will. Not. Be. Told. What. To. Do._

Emma hovered over Regina and searched her contorted features. Even in exhaustion, the brunette's defiance, while waning, was still present and very clear. No, she would give Emma everything. Emma would uncover every barrier, every barricade, and every hindrance one stroke at a time. She would fuck Regina into the mattress until the fibers from the sheets fused to her skin if she had to. And judging from the internal struggle that was playing out across the brunette's face when Emma shoved two fingers into her tight cove—that was _exactly _where the night was headed . . .

**The Next Day:**

Regina fought against the sound of movement in the room. She wanted to sleep. She needed to sleep, yet she figured it was likely past noon. After last night's events, she needed six weeks of hibernation before she could even consider rejoining civilization.

Her mind spoke to her limbs but they refused to cooperate. She laughed at the irony. Not so long ago she had left the blonde in this very position. Emma had bared herself to Regina that night and now, it was the blonde who left the mayor open and vulnerable. Her emotions were raw and her flesh was tender to the touch. The blonde had uncovered every part of her and left no stone unturned. By the time Emma pulled away from her, just before dawn, she had sputtered and cried out her pleas and agreed to do all that the blonde had asked. In the height of the excruciating rapture she yet failed to tell Emma the truth regarding her relationship with Robin. The blonde's mouth and hands had the brunette in such a state, that by the time Emma had retrieved the phallus and the harness, the brunette promised that she wouldn't even acknowledge Robin's existence.

Emma sat on the bed and smiled down at Regina. All the anger and intensity was washed away from her alabaster skin. Her wide eyes were pleading and kind again and Regina was instantly lost. Emma leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. She knew that Regina was hers and only hers.

"Hey there," Emma offered sheepishly. It was almost astounding how innocent and child-like she could appear at times.

Emma eased the covers away from her lover and examined her body in the light of day. She smiled as she slowly kissed her way down Regina's body. Regina had nothing left, her body was numb and lifeless and yet her center sprung to life the moment that mouth began its slow and gentle ministrations.

"I love you," the brunette whimpered, leaving the last of herself open and on display for the woman below her.

The words cascaded over the blonde and enveloped her soul. She pulled her tongue from the woman above her who could barely manage to breathe. Her darkened peridot eyes lifted to meet the helpless and astonished gaze of those midnight holes. She stared into those bottomless wells as she crawled up Regina's body, pressing her salty coated lips against Regina's as they both watched each other through cautious eyes. Regina had just given Emma the one thing she wanted most. Years from now, when the story of their lust and love for each other is passed on to all who will listen, the great story tellers will begin the tale by recounting how two mighty and tall oak trees stood—proud and strong—only to be cut and toppled by their need to be intertwined with the roots from the other's tree. History will revive the scribes and the bards will stand on the roof tops and sing of an ode to Emma and Regina: the lovers who fought with honor and valor, but lost their separate identities in order to be reborn from the furnace as one creation. They will tell that story and how of time itself bowed to the authority of their journey and stood still the moment Regina Mills professed her love for Emma Swan.

"I love you, too."

They kissed languidly, taking the time to memorize the contours of each other's mouths before finally pulling away.

Emma and Regina left the haven of their soiled sheets. Emma borrowed a robe from Regina before opening the bedroom door. She stood against the frame and sighed happily as she ran her hands through her tousled hair. "So," she began cockily, "which one of us gets to tell Henry?"

As if on cue, because obviously Regina had not suffered enough, the dark-haired boy walked past their door way. "Henry already knows. You guys are gross," he huffed without looking up from his phone. "I get two allowances now." Emma whirled around and watched her son trot down the stairs as if he'd just commented about the weather.

Emma felt the heat of a stare against the back of her neck and she turned to offer the brunette her best smile.

"Now, Regina, just calm down," Emma said backing away with her hands raised in mock surrender as Regina approached the door.

The brunette slammed the bedroom door and Emma sighed when she heard it lock.

"Aw 'Gina don't be like that," she whined. "I'm sure he didn't hear much." The blonde rolled her eyes and her smile widened.

Yes, the great scribes would write a story about them; but it would probably end with Regina killing the white knight because the little prince had heard the cries of the dark queen.

Emma whistled as she headed down the stairs to find her son and enjoy their first Saturday afternoon at home as a real family.

**Saturday Evening:**

"I don't understand what you just said," Mary Margaret whispered, even though they were the only three in the loft.

"I said: Regina and I are together. We're in a relationship."

"With each other?"

_The hell? _Emma sighed. "Yes, Mary Margaret."

David sat on the couch and stared blankly ahead. He hadn't moved a muscle since Emma broke the news.

_I think I broke him._

"And by date, you mean . . . you . . . and _Regina Mills_ are . . ." Mary Margaret couldn't seem to find the words and Emma found that she didn't have the patience to play fill in the blank.

"Whatever you're thinking, Mary Margaret, I'm pretty sure the answer is yes."

"You love her?" The pixie brunette's eyes nearly landed in her lap.

"Yep."

"And she loves you," the teacher squeaked.

Emma grinned. "Affirmative."

"Oh my . . ." Mary Margaret's eyes widened all the more as she clutched the collar of her shirt and turned to look at David.

She elbowed him and nodded toward Emma. "David, say something."

Still not moving, he shifted only his eyes to look at his boss and friend. For a long moment David said nothing. Emma tried to hold his gaze but she couldn't deny that the silence caused her mind to wander. It never occurred to her that her buddy and colleague would be anything other than supportive. Emma opened her mouth, prepared to defend herself and her choices and her love for Regina. Instead, the sandy-haired deputy broke his rigid pose and leaned back against the couch, throwing his arm around his girlfriend.

The moment Emma saw that shit-eating grin take over his face, she visibly relaxed. She knew what was coming.

_"_ _One day, they're going to yell timber over you, Emma. And when you fall, I'll try not to say . . ._

"TOLD YA," he chirped.

"I thought you weren't going to say it," she grumbled.

"Hey, I said I'd try. I held it in as long as I could." His infectious laugh brought a smile to the sheriff's face and she rolled her eyes.

"I knew she was slipping something into your food," Mary Margaret joined in.

The threesome spent the evening laughing at Emma's expense. She took it all in stride. Emma was riding a high so potent that only death itself would be able to make the feeling go away. The euphoria of her feelings lifted her to a place that allowed her to count the stars and drink fresh rainwater from the clouds.

She giggled like a fool on her way out when David cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Timber!"

"Asshole," she retorted playfully as she closed the door behind her.

**Sunday Afternoon:**

Three sets of eyes watched Emma as she stormed into Granny's after walking past the window and seeing Regina sitting with _Robin _and some other guy. The blonde could almost feel the blood boiling under her skin. She stalked up to the table and plopped down angrily next to Regina. Really! What kind of person _was _Regina? What kind of woman declared her love for someone and then went behind her back to do the very thing she promised not to do?! _And what kind of man blows into town stalking women –_

She froze when she saw the man sitting next to Mr. Perfect reach over and stroke his cheek.

Without thinking or having the common sense to introduce herself or explain her actions, Emma scanned the table with bewildered eyes.

She stared slack-jawed at the man sitting across from her. "He's _gay?!_"

"A little louder, dear. I don't think Granny heard you in the _back_," Regina hissed, annoyed by the attention garnered from Emma's elevated voice.

"The whole time, Regina?!"

The brunette's smirk told the blonde all she needed to know. Regina had purposefully let her think that there was something going on between her and Robin.

" 'The whole time', what, Emma?"

"You knew he was gay the whole time?"

"And you didn't, love?" A mocking voice from beside Robin interjected.

"Really, Emma," Robin laughed, immensely enjoying Emma's near hysterics. "Think of me as 'roaring twenties' gay; or maybe a new and improved Cary Grant. Would that make it easier for you to see it?"

"How could you not see it," Killian asked as he stroked Robin's arm.

"Me? _No one saw it._"

"Why am I not surprised," Killian muttered.

"I can't believe it." Emma sat back in the booth as though winded.

"We don't all come with body glitter and flashy outfits," Killian said through an amused smile.

Well, I believe _you're_ gay," Emma mumbled as she took in the eyeliner and sword earring.

"Aye, love," he responded smoothly. "Running late for the dykes on bikes convention, aren't we," he quipped nodding to her leather jacket.

They both rolled their eyes at each other before Emma turned her attention back to the grinning mayor.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The mayor's smile dropped instantly. "You never asked."

"You still could have told me. You _knew_ what I thought." Emma did a poor job of keeping the accusatory tenor out of her voice. _Ugh, manipulative woman!_

"You were too busy making demands about who I could and could not see," she huffed in fresh irritation. "I don't respond well to being told what to do." The last sentence slithered into Emma's brain and its cryptic admonishment was not lost on the blonde.

Still, she couldn't resist. "Really," the sheriff challenged, with a wicked grin. "You took to it like a fish to water the other night."

The collective gasp from the two men was almost comical. Almost. The moment she said the words, she knew they would be her last. Regina would kill her over this—there was no scenario in which the blonde could come out clothed and alive. It was one of the mayor's rules now that they were public and official: they would not discuss or even reference their sex life in public. Regina believed that such matters were for the privacy of the home.

_"__However," the brunette had declared, hissing her threat directly into Emma's ear, "if you do decide to embarrass me in public, then that's _exactly_ where I plan to correct your behavior."_

Emma chanced a glance at the woman sitting next to her and cursed herself for doing so. Instantly, she knew that Regina was having the same memory. The mirth in those black eyes was replaced with a passion and a dark callousness that Emma had not seen for over a month. It was that same pair of unwavering midnight orbs that watched as her life force was drained from her body not that long ago.

_Shit!_

Emma tensed when she felt the mayor's hand grip her thigh under the table. The black eyes never left the startled green pools as the mayor spoke slowly and deliberately, that familiar and dangerous tone once again filling the sheriff's senses. "Emma, I've warned you about this . . . ."

The two men watched in rapt fascination as the tension between the two women began to build a hedge around them—the vampire leaning in to size up her prey.

"I'm frightened for the blonde one," Killian leaned over and whispered into his husband's ear.

"Me too," Robin replied under his breath.

. . . . .

_FIN_


End file.
